This Is How Life Ends
by Jerrath92
Summary: So far they haven't had much of an effect on her, but with tempers boiling, minds slipping into oblivion, and disaster mounting every second of every day, safety is about to become a thing of the almost unreal past. M for lang, gore, and violence. PLEASE review!
1. Chapter 1: Between Glances

**Does Andrea have a last name? Guess not…but that doesn't really matter. I decided to finally pluck up the courage and attempt a story from a woman's point of view. For some reason the thought has always terrified me, but I'll give it a go. She is my favorite female character in the series and although I disapprove of the way she treats Dale on the show, I am hoping that she will reconcile with him. For now, however, I will create my own version of her from her perspective. **

**A one-word comment is great; more than one word is better; and more than that merits an "I love you" reply. I value opinions…and you have one, so opinionate away!**

It was easy to love Dale for his originality, but it was easier for her to hate him because it was thanks to him that she started to observe the others in their daily activities, pick up on every minute detail of what they did and she _hated _it. It wasn't her business spying on people's privacy when they were already denied so much of it with living in tents. Even a few minutes alone hanging up laundry to dry or cleaning out wash buckets was enough to consider yourself alone when such a luxury was almost nonexistent and she despised herself for letting her eyes stray onto the survivors as they participated in such actions. They thought that they were outside of observation as they engaged in things that reminded them of the life they had been forced to abandon, but no, Dale's eyes were always on them and now so were hers. It wasn't that he encouraged her to survey anyone, but the little tidbits of information he let slip now and then prompted her to catch someone in the act of doing whatever Dale had observed.

She noted how Daryl Dixon would always pull out a cleaning rag and wipe off the tips of his arrows whenever he returned from a hunt or scouting trip. Lori Grimes could be seen giving her son a pep talk without fail in their tent entryway as the camp came alive with activity. Her sister Amy would constantly put her hand on her jean pocket as if she were going to check her cell phone and then her face would fall dismally as she remembered that she had none. Shane Walsh could be caught on his downtime watching Lori and Carl with a faraway look in his eyes. Daryl's older, wilder brother Merle disappeared inside his tent for ten minutes or so right after he ate lunch and would come out watery eyed.

And then there was Jim. He hadn't given them his last name, hadn't given them really any sort of information other than his first name. Most of the time he was doing something productive such as helping Dale fix the Winnebago or securing the camp's perimeter, but she had noticed how he always returned from a long walk as soon as she exited her tent in the morning and he was still sitting there at the campfire well after she went to bed. He didn't say much, but when he did the words sounded pained as if every syllable was tearing at his throat. There was something that he was hiding, something he refused to reveal to anyone; she could see it in his eyes that were a unique shade of brown. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but on a few occasions when she tore her gaze from one person to another, she could have sworn that she saw him looking at _her._

This didn't bother her, but she wasn't completely comfortable with it either. If she knew the man more, if he actually said something now and again, she would most likely be perfectly okay with it, but the fact that his eyes seemed to do more talking than his mouth did was not helpful.

His _eyes_…

A small shiver ran up her spine and she uncrossed her legs only to cross them again in a slightly different fashion as she readjusted herself into Dale's lounge chair atop the RV. It was Dale's fault—all of it. He had insisted that everyone rotate shifts for watch duty and for some reason it was always her shift when Dale chose to work on the RV so that her back was facing the two mechanics. Even now as she pulled her hat more snuggly down over her brow she felt a prickle on the back of her neck and quickly whipped around, hoping to catch Jim in the act, but when she looked down, she saw that he looked very much engaged in whatever it was he was doing. She reminded herself that she could have been imagining everything; it was very possible that Jim had never been looking at her, though the thought did nothing to settle her uneasiness.

Drumming her heels on the roof restlessly, she wished she had thought to bring a watch along when she had packed her belongings for her and Amy's road trip. Her shift should be over soon.

Glenn's baseball cap preceded his youthful face as he appeared at the ladder. "My turn," he said without much enthusiasm as he held out his hand for Dale's Hawkeye rifle. Sighing in relief, she swung her leg onto the first rung and started down, but before she could go another few steps she heard a thud as Glenn accidentally dropped the rifle and it went off with a loud bang. Startled, she let go of the rung with one hand, dangling by the other. Cursing Glenn, she regained a secure hold and then jumped the last few steps to the ground, landing catlike. As she stood up she saw Dale and Jim both watching her in concern.

"You okay, Andrea?" asked Dale.

"Yeah," Andrea muttered bad-naturedly, making sure that her Ladysmith was still tucked firmly in the small of her back at her pant line. She had never actually had to fire her pistol before and she hoped she would never have to because bullets were few and far between and her dad had only bought her one pack.

Just then Shane came up to the three of them, hunching his shoulders as if to prevent anyone else from seeing him. "Hey y'all, Dog just got back from a scouting trip and he says there's about three or four walkers heading this way. Now, I wouldn't ask if we had more able bodied men, but Ed and Morales aren't back yet from that gas station we sent 'em to and neither's Daryl from his hunt, so in addition to Merle, I'm gonna need two of you to come with us, leaving at least one here to watch the camp."

"And by two of us you mean me and Jim," guessed Andrea. "Obviously Dale's going to stay here but I'm surprised that you'd ask me. I'm a woman," she added with a bit of a scowl. She hated that Shane didn't think it important enough to teach the women to handle a gun or _something_. But she was the rebellious one; she had done whatever she could wherever it was possible to familiarize herself with weapons of all sorts.

"Yeah, I mean you'n Jim," said Shane with a bit of a smile. "I ain't gonna force ya, but I am askin'."

Jim lifted his chin in his equivalent of a nod which prompted Andrea to agree. She took the shovel Shane handed her and gripped it in her dominant hand as she and Jim set off after Shane towards the woods. Merle joined them, looking either really pumped for a bit of action, or really pissed off for no good reason, but that was something else Andrea had observed; he _always_ looked like that and in order to tell his exact mood you had to read the knit in his eyebrows and the twitching in the corners of his mouth. When he saw Andrea, however, he looked disapprovingly at Shane and asked in an undertone, "Why's she comin'?"

"Something wrong, Merle?" asked Andrea, sparing him a look of contempt. "Do you have something against women fighting?"

"Not if they know how," said Merle fairly. "I ain't gonna babysit no whiny-ass bitch who can't swing a bat out there."

"Well, luckily for you I'm a bitch who doesn't whine and can take care of herself." Out of the corner of her eye Andrea thought she saw the shadow of a grin pass over Jim's mouth but knew she could only have imagined it, for as she tried to get a proper look at him she saw that his face had gone back to its normal inactive form.

The four of them hiked down the mountainside, treading carefully and listening for clumsy noisemaking which would reveal the walkers' positions. True, the walkers were the reason why Andrea was here now in the company of a little over a dozen people she hardly knew, constantly looking out for her sister's safety, but thus far they hadn't personally affected her or threatened her life directly. She knew that at any moment that could change, particularly now when she was going straight out to face them, but she had three well built men around her if she needed them, thought she wasn't planning on it. She had always been independent, worked alone and wanted to be left that way. Her idea of someone enjoyable to talk to was her sister once a week because personally Andrea wasn't a big talker herself.

"You're makin' too much noise," complained Merle presently.

"You're the one talking," she retorted in a harsh whisper.

"Both've you shut up," snapped Shane, pointing with his shotgun to a few meters ahead where they saw one walker continuing on at a very leisurely pace, if you could imagine such a thing.

"Merle and I'll get this one," said Shane, "you two stay here."

Andrea was a little disappointed that she had been chosen to get left behind, but she knew that Shane had stealth tactics down to a "t" and so she trusted his judgment. That did not, however, mean that she was happy with his choice of companions for her. If Merle had been left behind with her the two might banter, but at least it wouldn't be awkward. Jim, however, made everything awkward just with his presence as he tapped his bat against his leg. One of Andrea's admitted faults was the fact that in silent situations any and every small sound became an annoying noise and the muffled patting of wood against Jim's garage suit was almost deafeningly irritating as the two of them watched Shane and Merle being their assault on the walker. Biting her lip for patience, Andrea flexed her fingers over the shovel handle and finally when she saw the walker go down, she rounded on Jim, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Would you cut that out already?" she asked him.

Jim blinked with no expression and then did the completely unexpected by throwing out his arm and shoving her hard enough to make her lose her balance and land on her tailbone which sent a sharp wave of pain up through her spine to her temples.

"What the hell-?"

Jim raised his bat in typical batter stance like in a professional baseball game and made an almighty swing, making contact with another walker's jaw that had come from nowhere. Concrete gray teeth went flying in all directions and then blood splayed out in an equal amount as Jim swung a second time to permanently incapacitate it. As Andrea felt her mouth slipping open to gape she also felt cold, clammy hands grab her shoulders and she instinctively jabbed the shovel backwards, scrambling away. As she came onto her knees she saw the third walker inching towards her, ravaging mouth drooling blood. She snatched up the shovel and struck the walker across the face with it. Seconds later Jim came in with another hit from his bat. They each took two more swings at it and then simultaneously dispatched it with hits to its head right behind the ears.

Gasping for breath, Andrea collapsed back on her bruised behind and ran her hands over her shoulders to locate a scratch but found none. By the time she had finished checking herself over Shane and Merle had returned with their bloodied bludgeoning weapons and their faces shared a look of shock. Merle held out his hand to Andrea, trying his best to keep a smirk from his face.

"Thought you could take care've y'self?"

Andrea ignored his hand and brushed her jeans off angrily still in a sitting position. "There wasn't any whining involved, smart ass. Jim pushed me out of the way and took out the first one and then we both attacked the second one. I didn't need any help," she lied. She certainly hadn't seen the walker coming behind her, but that was only because she had been in the process of telling Jim off for his repetitive bat tapping. It wasn't actually his fault, but it wasn't hers either.

"Y'alright?" asked Shane in concern to which Andrea jerked her head.

Jim extended his hand to her and this time she accept it, surprised at the gentleness of his touch but also the strength behind it. His palm and fingertips were calloused as well as scarred. Without a word he began walking back up the mountainside, swinging his bat somewhat playfully by his side. When she made it to the top of the slope with Shane and Merle she took a long and grateful swig from the canteen Dale offered her who looking very relieved.

"Why're you all dirty?" he asked quizzically, pointing at the front of her jeans.

"Fell," she said dismissively, pouring a little bit of the water into her pale blonde hair. As the cool wetness rolled down her sweaty face she closed her eyes, remembering what it felt like to take a proper shower. Blinking out a few droplets, she watched Jim wipe the blood from his bat and then seeing Amy hurrying towards her, she shifted her gaze, but she had an inkling of curiosity that made her look back at him.

And he was looking right at her.


	2. Chapter 2: The Definition of a Stare

Daryl Dixon was skilled enough to find them more than just rodents for a bit of a filling supper that night. Somehow he had managed to find three rabbits and a doe which he strode into camp carrying like the majestic hero returning from a dangerous mission. He bullied Merle into helping him skin the animals and then Lori, Jacqui, and Amy set about to cooking them however they could. Andrea wasn't one much to demonstrate her hand at cooking, especially since she had nearly blown up her dorm room with her abyssal deep-frying skills back in college.

She knew that she definitely was paranoid now since she was constantly looking over her shoulder to see if Jim had his eyes on her which twenty-seven out of the twenty-eight times he did. If he had been watching her perhaps once or twice, she would have thought nothing of it, but _twenty-seven_ _times_ was borderline obsession and she was going to put a stop to it. As she suspected, Jim was lingering just outside the social circle, resting his arms over his bat which was draped across his shoulders. He looked harmless enough, but Andrea reminded herself of how little she knew about him which made her subconsciously think of her Ladysmith. Her dad had given it to her for these very sorts of situations where she felt uncomfortable, threatened even. There was no way that her dad could have suspected that she might need to use her pistol on walkers (the term hadn't even originated yet) but the threat of assault was still very real and probably more likely now that the world had gone to hell. Men were desperate and she could trust no one, especially someone who had been caught looking at her _twenty-seven times_.

Steeling herself for the task ahead, she strode up to Jim and cleared her throat to gain his attention since she didn't feel it appropriate to touch him with how she was feeling just now. He cocked his head in her direction, uninterested. Very deceptive.

"Can I talk to you a minute?" she asked, and then added very clearly, "A-lone?"

Jim raised his eyebrow ever so slightly and his eyes flickered towards those gathered around the cooking pots. "Can't y'talk here?"

This question struck Andrea as odd. If Jim's intentions had been abusive then wouldn't he have jumped at the opportunity to be alone with her? Most likely this _would_ be the case but he looked uneasy, embarrassed even and then she realized that _he_ might be thinking that _she _was the one with the dishonest intentions.

"It'll only be a minute," she insisted, sounding far braver than she felt for now she feared that she was just going to embarrass herself, but she had to know otherwise she'd never have another peaceful moment in the camp. Jim followed her rather reluctantly to the RV where Dale was on watch and they went inside. Andrea kept her voice conversationally low, but not inaudible as she plunged into it. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

Seemingly nonplussed, Jim furrowed his brow which prompted Andrea to roll her eyes and imitate the expression she had seen him donning every time she looked at him. "You don't blink, you don't smile, or do anything and it's kind of creepy. You just _stare_ at me. Ever since we got back from that scouting trip you haven't been able to take your eyes off of me. Am I really that interesting, or what? I caught you looking almost thirty times. And don't you dare say, 'I caught you looking back' or I'll pop you in the mouth right here."

Jim looked a little hurt, even surprised, but not angry. With his eyes cast downward in apparent shame, he muttered, "Thought maybe you were aching from when I pushed you. Didn't mean to hurt you or scare you."

Andrea found herself gawking. He thought that she was upset with him for pushing her down and out of the way of the second walker. All the times she had caught him regarding her, he was simply checking in on her like an overly-protective father keeping a hawk's eye on his daughter at her first dance…Dale would have done the same thing.

"Well, I feel like a real ass now. You could have told me, though, or better yet, just asked to see if I was alright and then we could have avoided this."

Jim shrugged one shoulder. "Most women wouldn'ta wanted to talk 'bout it," he said shyly.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not like most women. You can _talk_ to me; I'm not going to bite you." The use of the word "bite" was either incredibly ironic or else very crude and as she opened her mouth to apologize, Jim beat her to the catch.

"Sorry. I'll keep my eyes down from now on."

"Okay, well, I didn't mean it like that," said Andrea crossly, irritated by the lack of effective communication going on. "I don't want you to avoid me, but just-just _tell_ me, will you? I'm easy to talk to."

Jim gave her a look that expressed a very clear amount of disbelief and she immediately flared up, placing her hands defensively on her hips. "I am! It may not seem like it right now but that's only because you're giving me nothing, zilch, _zero_," she held up a hand making an "o" shape to emphasize her point, "to work with, buddy, and that is not my fault. Now, you were annoying the hell out of me by tapping your bat over my shoulder so I had to turn towards you to shut you up and then you shoved me down to protect me, and I'm fine with that. But then you stalk off without a word and then start to stare at me with those big gooey eyes because you think I'm mad at you which makes me uncomfortable as hell, which leads to this little confrontation here that could have been avoided if you had just come up to me and said 'Andrea, are you alright?'. That's not what you did, though; you scared the crap out of me because I thought you were going to—I don't know, attack me or something. Do you see the problem here?" she finished, blowing hard out of her nose.

She expected Jim to show more shame, for him to mutter another emotionless apology, or for him to even deny a thing or two, but what she got was a curve ball.

"I don't have gooey eyes," he said a bit indignantly.

Andrea didn't believe what she was hearing. She had just given him a deluxe Andrea-style lecture and all he could say was that he resented her claiming that he had gooey eyes? What sort of man was she dealing with here?

"Jim, that is _not_ the point," she said, struggling to keep her temper in check.

"I seen the point," he said and for the first time she heard sentiment in his voice. "I get it. I'll keep my distance."

"You're really stupid, you know that? You're not getting what I'm saying."

"You _said_ this wouldn't take long," he pointed out.

"You're making it take long!" she nearly shouted, but then calmed herself. "Alright, alright, let's just take a little break here. All I wanted to find out was why you had your eyeballs glued to my backside every time I looked over at you and yes, I admit I was looking because thanks to Dale, I can't help myself. I feel nosy and I know I'm invading privacy, but you can blame him for that. But that's not what I'm getting at. I know now why you were watching me, but you could have just come up and told me so that we didn't flare up in each other's faces. That's the one thing in addition to walkers that we don't need right now. We can solve these sorts of problems by just corresponding with each other and I know that talking is basically against your religion or whatever, but it's something you're going to have to put up with if you want to survive in this camp with me. Hell, I _encourage_ you to come talk to me and it doesn't have to be about anything that makes sense, just so long as you say something. Ramble on about baseball or cars or whatever the hell it is that you want to, but just use your vocal cords; you have them for a reason."

Jim considered her for a moment and then asked, "You always this easy to talk to?" and by easy he had been using sarcasm which translated to difficult.

"You did that to yourself," Andrea reminded him. "You could have come and talked to me at any time when I was on watch duty or cleaning dishes, or whatever. You still can if I haven't scared you. I'm not generally this talkative and I can see that you aren't either, but I figure that two people living on the edge of a mute life might be able to find something to talk about, right?"

Jim shrugged. "Maybe," he said without any real conviction.

"_Maybe_?" Andrea repeated. "Well, we're off to a shitty start here if all you can say is_ maybe_."

"Well, what else'm I s'posed to say?" Jim demanded.

" 'Okay' would have been better than 'maybe'. Show me that we're on the same page here. Will you come and exchange a few words with me at least once a day?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I _want_ you to, you dumbass. Bend over so that you're closer to Earth and you can hear me. I would very much appreciate and enjoy it if you opened your mouth and let words spill out to let me know that you're still alive, now is that too much to ask?" From Jim, that probably _was_ too much to ask, but she wasn't giving him any choice on the matter. She forced her hand out a little threateningly for him to shake it, but he looked still looked hesitant, so she tried a different approach, one that she didn't think she could convincingly pull off.

"Come on, Jim, please. I'm not trying to hurt you or anything. I don't mean to be a bitch, but with my little sister to watch over and the fact that I've always been a loner myself doesn't make it easy for me to open up to people. I'm just looking out for myself so that I can look out for her, if that makes sense. I'm sorry if I come across as a real piece of work, but I can tell you that that's not really what I'm like if you give yourself—give _me_ a chance to open up. I'm not asking for your deep, dark secrets. I just want a normal conversation; people have those, even now."

Her words worked magic and Jim gave the smallest nod in his sunburnt head before he shook her hand briefly. His face seemed softer now, warmer and more inviting than before when his intentions had been unknown and everything about him had seemed unfriendly from an outside's view, but now that Andrea got a proper look at him, she could see everything she had missed when spying on him. He had a nice face, a young and thin beard, and nicely curved cheekbones. He actually wasn't as tall as she had exaggerated, but he still towered over Merle, Morales, and even Shane who were all pushing six foot, six foot one.

Jim looked humble enough, perhaps approachable now that she knew that he was just an unbelievably introverted individual. But he was still grieving for something or someone, most likely family. Andrea had lost family as well; her mother when she had been a sophomore in grad school and there was little chance that her dad had survived the apocalypse at his age in his condition. She wondered briefly whom Jim had lost and felt sympathy for him despite the fact that she didn't even know who she was trying to help him grieve for.

"Are we good?" she asked him.

"Yeah."

_Well, _she thought dully to herself, _at least 'yeah' is better than nothing._


	3. Chapter 3: Plenty of Water

She had to give the Dixons credit; they could make a meal out of literally _anything_, though she was still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not since the venison was delicious, but it wasn't just venison either. She felt a strange texture in the stew the brothers had made but couldn't muster the courage to ask what it was. Merle looked exceptionally proud of himself for thinking to add a special ingredient that he wouldn't reveal to them, but it did make them all cautious as they watched the steam rise out of their bowls. Daryl smacked Merle upside the head and told him to shut up and let everyone eat though no one had quite the same appetite afterwards. Ed Peltier and Shane ate hungrily enough but Andrea noticed one person who was only moodily picking at his food and that was to no one's surprise—Jim.

He ate a few mouthfuls but either the food didn't agree with him or else he just wasn't hungry, for once or twice Andrea spotted him chewing with a very pained expression on his face. His Adam's apple bulged slightly with every swallow and the skin around the corner of his eye pulled together as he winced. Deliberately staring at him, Andrea waited for him to notice her awareness since he was sitting across the fire from her. Unfortunately Merle seemed to notice the attention she was giving him and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. She considered flipping him off, but knew it would only give him incentive to poke fun and her as well as Jim so she used her eyes to point at Jim insistently.

As dim-witted he was when it came to the concept of shutting up, Merle caught on very quick to what Andrea was trying to convey and nudged Jim's leg with his knee. Jim looked sideways at him as if he was coming out of a stupor and Merle jerked his head at Andrea.

"_You okay_?" she mouthed at him.

Jim rubbed at his throat and his action caught Dale's attention who was sitting with his hat pulled low over his eyes. The older man reached over and tilted Jim's head sideways so that his neck was thrown into the light.

"Good lord, Jim, have you been scratching?" he asked which made everyone turn to look at Jim's exposed jugular. There were small bumps all along the side of it, almost as if he had a break out of infection or irritated skin. It was unlike anything Andrea had ever seen before and by the looks on Dale and Shane's faces, they hadn't either.

"Jim, what happened to you?" asked Lori, leaning forward in concern.

"Dunno, it just burns; hurts m'throat," said Jim raspily.

"Let's get that looked at inside where there's better light," Dale suggested. He and Shane escorted Jim back to the RV and Andrea saw the light come on as she tried to finish her venison. She promptly heard Jim give a shout of indignation and quickly glanced over her shoulder in anxiety.

"He'll be fine," said Merle unconcernedly. "Daryl had worse diaper rashes'n that."

"You shut your face," snapped Daryl, shoveling second helpings into his bowl while eyeing Andrea's portion. "'F'you ain't gonna eat that…"

Distracted, Andrea dumped her unfinished serving onto his overflowing bowl and set her dishes aside. Amy licked the tip of her spoon and asked, "Where are you going?"

"To see what's wrong with him." She didn't know why, but for some reason she felt guilty for Jim's misfortune. Perhaps all the talking she had made him do put too much strain on his throat which may have already been infected or whatever the hell it was suffering from. It looked like he had brushed up against poison ivy or something of the sort, but he could have also been stung or bitten by an insect. She knocked on the frame around the RV's doorway to announce her presence and saw that Shane was holding a flashlight over Jim's neck while Dale treated it in the best way he knew how to. Jim was impatiently drumming his spindly fingers on the counter and as Dale prodded at one of the larger blisters he gave a shout of pain, shoving the older man back with surprising strength.

"Damn it, that hurts!" he yelled, but was silenced since his throat was apparently protesting at his overuse of it.

"I still think it's poison ivy," said Shane as he tried to calm Jim down.

"But that doesn't explain why his throat hurts," Dale argued.

"Maybe he's catching a cold," suggested Shane unhelpfully.

"From who? From what? The walkers?"

Andrea knocked again a little louder but when the two men continued to argue and Jim screwed up his face against the shouts, she hollered, "Hey!" All three heads turned in her direction and she put a finger to her lips, pointing the other hand at Jim. "You two are just making it worse. Let him go in the back and lie down. If it really is poison ivy he should be fine in the morning." Behind Dale's back Jim nodded gratefully and then retired to his bed. Andrea, Dale, and Shane returned to the campfire for another half hour and then the other survivors gradually began to migrate to their own tents. Dale bade Andrea and Amy goodnight, leaving the sisters and the Dixons around the fire pit to poke aimlessly at the logs as he went off to start his watch. Andrea had hoped that Merle would keep his remarks to himself for the night, but after Amy headed off to bed he opened his big fat mouth.

"I think he likes ya," he said shamelessly and there was only one person who that could possibly be referring to.

"If 'jackass' were a middle name, it'd be yours," Andrea snapped.

"It already is," said Daryl which earned him a kick in the shin from his brother.

"Maybe the reason he likes me is because I don't call him a half-fed skinny-ass giant behind his back," said Andrea, shooting Merle a filthy look.

"I called 'im that once-,"

"And he heard you."

"Do I _look_ like I care?"

"You go on t'bed y'old fart," said Daryl, shooting Andrea half an apologetic look as he made his brother back off. The Dixons did not go quietly with Merle cursing about something or another and Daryl trying to calm him down enough so that he wouldn't wake up the entire camp and cause a panic with his shouting. Andrea added a few cracked twigs to the fire, drawing her jacket in closer around her as the Atlantan heat finally died out to be replaced with an eerie coolness. As she prepared to head back into her own tent she chanced a look in the RV's direction, saw Dale heading in, and jumped as she saw the silhouette of a tall, lanky figure facing her behind the back room's blinks. Taking a deep breath to bring her adrenaline back down, she forced a scowl and beckoned Jim to her with one finger. In less than thirty seconds she saw him trudging towards her almost as if he were a child that had been caught out past his bedtime. He stopped before her, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

"What?" he asked.

"You were staring at me again," Andrea reprimanded.

"Was not. I was checkin' on you; heard Merle shout somethin' and thought he'd upset you."

"No, he was just being an ass like he always is. I was just about to head off to bed, but there's no one on watch duty, so I guess I'll have to-,"

"My turn," said Jim, cutting her off. "Go to bed." He turned heel and ambled off, lifting his hand to scratch at his neck. Andrea hurried after him and slapped his wrist, causing him to raise his eyebrows at her.

"Don't do that; you'll only make it worse," she said, shaking her head.

Jim looked like he was about to tell _her_ off for once and she would have welcomed it, but instead he cracked his knuckles against his thumb and sniffed the air. "Storm's comin'," he said randomly. "Gonna be a lotta rain."

"Somehow I doubt that. From what Lori and the other locals tell me, it _never_ rains here," said Andrea cynically.

%%%

She ate her words in the morning, for Jim had been more than just correct; he had pinpointed the word "storm". The survivors put out rain catchers all over camp and once they had filled their containers to the brim they would dump the water into the RV's supply line so that they could take proper showers. Ed and Carol's daughter Sophia and Carl Grimes went first, one after the other, but they were put on a strict timer of a minute thirty seconds even though the rain continued to pour outside. Andrea reserved an early spot for Amy and then filled in her name for the slot six people from the end. Shane was at the very bottom of the list, preceded by Merle, Daryl, Dale, and Jim. She almost forgot to add soap and conditioner into the mix as she stood under the running water, relishing this small moment of joy. Scrubbing vigorously at her scalp to clear out as much of the dirt of the day as she could, she hustled to beat the timer on the sink and had just finished rinsing her hair when it rang. As she stepped out of the shower onto the slip-proof rug she realized that she had forgotten to get a fresh towel from the storage closet just outside the door.

Chiding herself for her stupidity, she cracked open the door an inch and called out, "Is anyone out there?"

"Why?"

Jim. It _had_ to be Jim, didn't it? Though she'd take Jim over Merle any day.

"I, uh, left my towel out there, so if you want to hand it to me-?"

"Full hands," Jim called.

"Oh, some help you are. Turn around and face the wall or cover your eyes; I'm coming out!" She opened the door a bit more and poked her head around it to see Jim turned away from her with a hand even pressed over his eyes for added security.

"You liar, you do _not_ have full hands," said Andrea, annoyed as she tried to open the closet. "Why is there a padlock on the door?"

"Dale's got Moonshine in there, doesn't want the kids getting' in ," said Jim still facing away from her. "Key's above on the ledge."

"Well, I'm not that tall, so you're going to have to get it," said Andrea, backing up into the steaming bathroom again as Jim shuffled towards her with his back still turned. Andrea saw that his eyes were now clasped shut as he reached out blindly for the ledge above the closet door and found the key to the padlock. He tried to jam it into the padlock but missed and stabbed his palm with the end.

"Jim, you can open up; I'm covered up in here."

Andrea pulled the door open just wide enough to poke her hand through to received the towel which Jim gave to her in quick succession. She hastily secured the towel around herself to dry off when she heard someone outside screaming. Her hand was on the knob when she heard Jim say urgently through the door, "Stay here."

"I can help, whatever's happening-,"

"You're naked, stay here!"

"Jim, you bastard, I didn't mean for you to start talking just so that you could tell me that I had to stay in here!" Jim made no response, but she felt him push against the door and a sudden thought occurred to her. "Don't you dare lock that door!" She heard the metallic click as Jim bolted her inside to ensure that she would not try to follow him and cursed his name, pounding on the walls. When no one came to her aid she sat down on the toilet seat, crossing her arms and promising to beat the hell out of Jim as soon as someone rescued her from the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4: Breach

Andrea only had to wait until Carl needed to use the restroom to be let out of the bathroom and by then she had dressed and combed out her dried out hair. She had heard commotion outside and had tried calling for someone to let her out, but no one heard her and when she finally escaped the confined area she was in a very foul mood. Outside the RV Dale was listening to T-Dog and Morales recount what had happened. They said that Shane, Merle, Daryl, and Jim, had helped them put one walker down and then had gone out to take care of the walker Amy had spotted further down the mountainside. As they snuck in closer they saw that the walkers were coming in by the dozens. No one knew what caused the walkers to leave the city, but the area was no longer safe for any of them, which was why the survivors were tearing down tents, packing bags, and putting out fires. This was the commotion Andrea had heard.

They had to evacuate, pick up and leave just like that without much warning and hardly any time to grieve over the loss of a fairly secure hideaway from a now lost civilization. There was some discussion about where they would go now as Andrea headed off towards her own tent which was partially deconstructed by Amy. Which location was as secluded as this? If this place wasn't safe being so far out of the city, was there any place that was safe?

"Where've you been?" asked Amy as she began taking the support poles apart.

"Jim locked me in the damn bathroom," Andrea grumbled, pulling a spoke up out of the ground. "Speaking of whom, where is that jackass? I'm going to kill him-,"

"Still out with Shane and the Dixons trying to buy us some time. We're going to have to triple up in the seats because there just isn't enough room for all of us with the equipment too, but we'll worry about that in about ten minutes when we're all packed so hurry it up."

Andrea didn't show it, but she felt a cold jolt in her stomach at the thought of Jim and the others trying to hold off a swarm of walkers. They would have the higher ground as they fought their way back up the mountain, but it was still just about the most dangerous thing anyone could do right now. She and Amy folded the tent haphazardly and secured it together with a long line of ropes before they lugged it over to the RV where Morales and Dale had a sort of vertical bucket line going where someone would hand Dale supplies who would then pass it off to Morales who would tie it down to the roof. As Andrea lifted the bulky tent up to Dale she thought she heard a very loud shout and turned towards the woods, expecting to see someone appear, but when no one did she swallowed hard and looked away. Dale, being the nosiest old man alive, had seen her expression and said in an undertone, "He'll make it back just fine."

Andrea opened her mouth to deny it, but didn't see the point since Dale and Merle had both noticed the stirrings between her and Jim and it was only a matter of time before the entire camp knew. But there really wasn't anything to gossip about, was there? She and Jim hadn't done anything noteworthy…and yet someone would twist that into something it was not.

"Are you getting on, or what?" asked Glenn as he leaned out of the RV to motion at her. She hadn't noticed that while everyone else was piling into the vehicles, she had remained stationary in the middle of the road, waiting for the men to return.

"The others," she began, but Dale, who was at the wheel, urged, "They'll be fine. There's one car left for them and they'll catch up with us. We have to get moving."

It went against everything she believed in, but Andrea climbed in and sat down at the table with Amy, Lori, and Carl. She pressed herself against the window, hoping to see some sign of the men, but realizing that she would not see them even if they came back because she was looking out the wrong side of the Winnebago, she dashed into the back room, kneeling on Dale's bed to try and get a better look. From the front she heard Dale and Glenn simultaneously curse and leaned back to look out the windshield before she too joined the swearing party. There were walkers all over the road, drawn in by the sound the vehicles were making.

"They're going to swamp us," said Amy hysterically.

No, that wasn't possible. There was a reason why the RV went first in the procession and this was exactly it. The Winnebago's bulk could part the walkers down the middle and clear the way for all those to follow. There was just one problem…

"What the hell do they think they're doing?" said Dale quite audibly, which made Andrea rush back up to the front and throw the door open while the vehicle was in motion. Her heart plummeted several stories into her stomach as she saw Daryl in the lead of the four stragglers, beating and stabbing their way through the crowd of walkers to get to the RV. Their way, however was blocked by more walkers than the four of them could handle and if they kept trying to fight it out, they would quickly become overwhelmed.

"We have to do something," said Andrea, though she wasn't sure if anyone heard her. "We have to do something right _now_!" She seized a crowbar from behind Dale's seat, but before she could jump out of the RV she saw that T-Dog and Morales had joined the fight and were trying to meet the other four halfway. Shane was pointing frantically down the road, waving his arm in an exaggerated motion.

"He wants you to pick up the speed," Glenn interpreted. "Dale, go faster."

"What for?" asked Lori as she put a protective arm around Carl.

"They can run; the walkers can't. If Dale goes faster, they can run and catch up to the RV and at the same time leave the walkers behind. If we stay here waiting the walkers will block off the—_doorway_!" He cried, throwing himself backwards as a walker appeared in front of Andrea and grappled for her arm. Its skeletal fingers held tight to her and as she toppled backwards and struck the back of her head on the corner of the table. She waited for the pain to come, for the teeth to delve deep into her skin and rip out a mouthful of flesh. The grip released her for a moment and then grabbed back on—but no, the temperature was different: warmer, stronger. Someone lifted her head up and helped her come into a sitting position.

"That was stupid," said Jim, shaking his head at her. He stood back to allow Morales to jump in just as Dale pressed the pedal to the floor and the RV began to bumble forward, then pick up speed and chug down the road. Andrea held a hand to the tender back of her scalp and saw the scenery outside the door flash by in a whirl of color. Jim leaned out the doorway and held out his hand which was grasped by Daryl who scrambled inside and nearly tripped over Andrea. She backed up in between the two front seats and from here she had a better vantage point of the happenings outside. Shane was clinging to the ladder with one hand while his feet trailed helplessly behind. Grunting in pain, he pulled himself up and wrapped his other arm around the rung, gasping for breath. Jim extended his hand again this time to help Merle who was literally sprinting at this point and in great danger of snapping his ankle on the rough terrain.

"Just jump for it, dumbass!" Jim shouted.

Merle dove for Jim's hand and caught his forearm. Jim's face broke out into strain and with an immense tug he lifted Merle up off the ground. Propelled by the momentum, Merle went sailing right into Andrea's lap so that he was nearly in a position to kiss her, but he caught himself and Andrea threw out her hands at the same time. He gave her a crooked grin and she pushed him off, sickened.

"Is that everyone?" asked Lori, counting heads.

"Where's Dog?" Glenn questioned.

Jim, who was still leaning out the side suddenly went very green in the face and sank down to his knees. "He's there," he said queasily, nodding back up the trail. One on top of the other, Merle, Daryl, Morales, and Andrea poked their heads out of the doorway, but Andrea was the only one to retract almost immediately, deciding that she didn't need to see any more than she already had. T-Dog hadn't been able to keep up with the vehicles and had fallen behind, overwhelmed by walkers.

"We have to go back," said Amy. "He may still be-,"

"Shut up," said Merle with a disgusted look on his face. "Juss shaddap. What you're talkin' is bullshit and y'know it, so keep a lid on it."

"Don't you start on her," snapped Andrea.

"She should know better-,"

"Well, she doesn't so just shut up!"

"Maybe _you_ should go'n stick that crowbar as far up y'ass as it'll go."

"I—am—_driving_!" Dale hollered with tension and Andrea glanced back to see him practically lying across the wheel as he tried to put some distance between the arguing pair and himself to concentrate on the road. Andrea shook her head angrily at Merle and hugged her knees to her chest, trying to block out the image of T-Dog's demise, however brief it may have been. It had happened so fast; one moment he had been climbing into the Jeep, the next running out to assist the four stragglers, and that was the last she had seen him. In a heartbeat, in the flash of a moment, the blink of an eye, he was just _gone_. Andrea was hit with the realization that life was so fragile that the smallest incident could rip it out of existence. It could just have easily been her if Jim hadn't come to her rescue at the most crucial moment.

Which reminded her…

She reached sideways to where Jim was still sitting beside her and took his hand. Sweat glistened on his forehead underneath his cap and there was a dark gray stain on the front of his shirt where perspiration had soaked through. He didn't acknowledge her at first, but very slowly rotated his head around, resting it against the back of Glenn's seat. She could see shame on the premature lines in his profile; guilt that he had escaped and T-Dog had not. But there was no way he could have saved their friend and now he had no right putting blame on his own shoulders. Andrea had come to find that by blaming yourself for any death, no matter whose it was, would do you absolutely no good and only make you a prime target for the next death on fate's list. Jim was already circling the drain of sanity and she couldn't allow this death to weigh on his shoulders.

She turned her head left and right once and then gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, trying to tell him in those two actions two very separate messages: one, that he was in no way to blame for nature's course of action which he had no control over and two, that she appreciated what he had done in protecting her. For a while he only stared at her, examining every plane and crevice on her face as she stared back with equal determination and observation, but at long last she felt him squeeze back.


	5. Chapter 5: Cabin Fever

They only stopped once near a gas station to fill up the tanks, but Andrea didn't get out to stretch her legs like the others. She made sure to the lock the door until the others returned and spent her time hiding under the table more so for a chance to think things through than anything else. It was only when Merle rapped heavily on the door with the threat to break it down did she come out, turn the lock, and storm back over to the space between the front seats. Morales was not with them now, preferring to drive with his family and explain what had happened to T-Dog, and Shane had exchanged places with Carol and Sophia, making the interior of the RV extremely crowded as they set off once more, going where, no one knew. Lori, Carol, Amy, and Sophia retreated to the back room to try and sleep as they drove on through the night with the headlights on dim. Carl fell asleep on the floor between Merle and Daryl who were stretched out in opposite directions in the most uncomfortable looking positions Andrea had ever seen.

She curled up herself on one of the two table seats, setting the side of her head against the window, watching Jim survey the scenery with no real interest across from her. Fearing that a nightmare would claim her if she nodded off, she tried her hardest to stay awake, but it was nearly impossible despite the hard and flat surface of the glass. Finally Jim moved over to her side of the table, stepping over Merle's outstretched legs as he went. In a very unabashed and un-Jimlike way, he patted his shoulder as if to signify that she could rest her head there. At this point she didn't care what Merle or Dale would think and she gratefully put her head against his chest and shoulder. While his shoulder was rather bony, he had firm muscle against his pectoral and though it was no pillow, it was better than the window. He didn't drape his arm over her or do anything that would encourage her to seek out more physical communication, but the sound of his steady breathing calmed her and in moments she had drifted off.

* * *

><p>It was to the most painful of speed bumps that she awoke. Her head bounced off of Jim's shoulder and she groped for the table to steady herself. He put out a cautious arm across her chest to keep her from striking her forehead on the counter.<p>

"Where are we?" she asked groggily, rubbing at her with two knuckles.

"Still driving," said Jim quietly, pushing a can of papaya and peaches at her with a plastic fork.

"And well outta the city," said Daryl from the floor to Jim's right, stabbing at some unknown piece of meat with his hunting knife.

"Here," said Merle, thrusting a cup of dark brown liquid at her. "S'cold, but there ain't much I can do 'bout that."

Knowing that her body needed caffeine now more than ever, Andrea took a sip, anticipating the clamminess of cold coffee, but as soon as it touched her throat she retched and deciding that she couldn't spit it out, swallowed hard, coughing. Jim thumped her on the back as she glared at Merle.

"Are you trying to kill me, Dixon? I thought you said this was coffee?"

"I didn't say those exact words, but it's got coffee in it and thass all that counts, right?"

Andrea held up her middle finger and muttered something incredibly vulgar under her breath as she shooed Jim out of the seat so that she could slide over and use the restroom. She was uncomfortable doing her business with so many people just outside the door and within the vicinity to hear and it didn't help that over half of them were men, but she had been holding it ever since she got out of the bathroom the day before. Luckily Dale drove them onto a rather bumpy side-road which made the miscellaneous objects in the pantry clatter together and make noise.

It was a waiting game, and probably the worst one ever invented, for whenever they had to stop for gas, or to consult with Shane, or to just get out and stretch, they were all dreading the moment when they had to pile back in the vehicles and continue on down the long road. It was just short of torture drifting in and out of troubled sleep and wakening to the same, unchanged scenery, the same dull and hopeless expressions on people's faces, and the same feeling of combined boredom and desperation. The lack of real interaction was beginning to weigh on them almost to the point of insanity. Andrea would have welcomed some sort of change, though perhaps not like how Merle and Daryl would, for the brothers went on for about forty-five minutes straight on how a walker attack would nearly be welcome by now. Merle was the first one to show signs of cabin fever and climbed up the ladder while Dale was driving to lay down on the roof and get away from everyone inside the RV. Daryl warned him that he would fall, which he nearly did when he tried to kick his little brother in the groin mid-climb for his cheeky comment.

Andrea paced back and forth from the back room to the two front seats so many times that Daryl warned her that she was going to wear a hole in the floor and then fall right through while the Winnebago was still in motion. She couldn't sit still for long and she couldn't stand up for more than five minutes at a time. She felt restless, deprived, and borderline crazy. She wanted to get out in the fresh air, feel the steady ground beneath her feet, perhaps have a lie down in the grass—anything to get out of this hellhole. If she had to endure one more comment from Merle about sexual tension, she was going to break one of Dale's gin bottles over his head. The negatives of the situation far outweighed the positives, though admittedly, there _were_ positives.

Two.

One was that Dale was too focused on the road to pay her any attention and therefore she wasn't feeling the need to pay anyone else attention and the other was that Jim had begun to add more and more words to his unknown vocabulary until she had him speaking full sentences to her, thought he still hardly said a word to the others. She had stirred something of a bond of trust within him and he opened up to an extent with her while still shunning the others. Of course, both of these positives came with matching and related negatives. Since she was not in any position to be observant, but rather walk around aimlessly, the others were the ones watching _her_. And then of course there was the fact that Merle couldn't keep his trap shut about supposed stirrings between Andrea and Jim but now he wasn't even being discreet about it, preferring to belch out comments in plain earshot of both victims.

Once or twice Andrea felt sure that Jim was going to take his bat and pop Merle upside the head, but either he was immune to insults, or he just didn't give a damn, for he never showed any signs that he heard Merle's words. Strain began to grow and unrest settled in like a shadow over a valley of light. It was an omen coming in.

Then Dale announced that they had arrived. As one they looked out of the windows, seeing nothing unique, and nothing secure. Wondering if this was some form of a poor joke, Andrea asked Dale what he had meant by arrive to which he replied, "This is where we stay until something better is offered up to us. It's secluded and it's higher than most ground around here, so we'll have the advantage. We can't keep going at this rate or everyone will kill each other just to have something to do. Shane told me to make camp here, so let's get set up before it gets too dark and have someone start up watch duty right where we left off."

Everyone was so eager to pitch their tents and get a proper rest that no one complained as they built new fire pits, gathered wood, set up their separate stations, or as Glenn called it, "housing complexes in a neighborhood of tents", and then gathered for a quick but nonetheless meaningful funeral for T-Dog. Dale was the one to say a few words and Shane encouraged everyone to lay something atop the empty grave. Andrea, who had not known the man very long or very well still shed a tear or two which she hastily wiped away with her forearm as she tried to help Amy finish setting up their tent. Daryl took pity on them and set it up properly before he retired to his and Merle's tent. The elder Dixon was poking at his fire pit, watching Andrea with a sort of obsessive calmness.

Amy hadn't noticed, but Andrea only had eyes for the second man to stare at her with such a strange expression and every time she wheeled around, she saw him deliberately holding her gaze before playing his cool card and turning away casually. She didn't know what his game was or if he was just trying to provoke Jim as a way of having something to do, but it annoyed the hell out of her and she was on her way over to give him a piece of her mind when Jim intercepted her and pushed her back towards her tent.

"Get back to work; it'll take your mind off things."

"How can I take my mind off of _that_?" Andrea demanded, pointing at Merle furiously.

"He's just toyin' with you, let 'im alone. If he wants to be an asshole, let him. You just concentrate on the tent here."

Andrea put one hand on her hip and dabbed at her forehead with the other. "Okay, I'm going to be completely honest, Jim; I've never set up a tent on my own before, so I don't even know what the hell I'm doing."

"Just have him show me and I'll do it," said Amy, motioning at the numerous poles and spokes littering the ground before them.

Jim consented to show her, allowing Andrea to find a soft-looking spot in the grass not far off in the shade of the trees where she promptly sank down onto the grass and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of unpolluted nature at its finest. She heard a bird chirp overhead, felt the cool dampness of the grass beneath her, tasted a bit of humidity on the air, and heard a growl.

A-a _growl_?

"Andrea!" Amy screamed.

Terrified, Andrea started to crawl forward, scrambling madly for the nearest striking weapon which was ten feet away. She hadn't gone two feet when she saw Jim appear out of nowhere on her left and Merle emerge from the right, wielding a very large and menacing –looking hunting knife. Both men took equal turns whacking the walker that had somehow managed to sneak up on Andrea in broad daylight without making a sound. Swearing at the top of her lungs, Andrea sat still in the grass, watching purplish-red blood ooze out onto the ground as Jim held out his right hand to her.

"I think you're a walker magnet," he said wearily, shaking the blood off of his bat.

"It's not _my_ fault," Andrea protested.

"Is this going to become a regular thing with you?"

"What, you think I _like_ being chased down by mindless men who are after my guts in place of my virginity-,"

"Not what I meant."

"Say what you mean, Jim"

"I mean that you need to be more careful 'cuz I can't be there every time. S'not that I don't wanna be; I just won't be."


	6. Chapter 6: Regretable Intentions

Andrea considered the fact that allowing the walker to eat her might have been far less troublesome than facing Merle afterwards. He had milked his act of heroics for everything it was worth, dropping hints on how he had gotten to her at the same time as Jim, though from a greater distance. Andrea went about her business, ignoring him as usual until her tent was finally set up and she placed her sleeping bag on the floor or it with several layers of sheets underneath, irritated beyond belief. Merle, however, went around to the see-through flap at the back and crouched down, smirking with the prospect of thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Go _away_," snapped Andrea, collapsing face first onto her pillow.

"Naw, I'm havin' too much fun."

"I'll have your brother shoot you in your ass, now beat it!"

"I'd be a lil' more polite t'the man who saved y'life."

"What do you want? You want me to say thanks? Well, thank you very much Mr. Dixon, for your selfless act of bravado, now will you please leave me the hell alone?"

"Y'got somethin' 'gainst me?"

"No, I just want to go to bed and you aren't helping!"

She heard Merle about to reply when suddenly Jim's voice came out clear and strong. "What're you arguing about now?" Lifting her head off of her pillow, Andrea saw Jim tapping his bat against his leg nonchalantly and Merle giving him a half pissed off, half cautious look. "No place've yours to stalk her. It's best if you just clear off," said Jim, to which Merle stood up defensively and rested his hand on his knife in a very subtle yet unmistakable warning.

Andrea leapt up and ran around to the backside of the tent, putting one hand on Jim's chest and the other on Merle's. "Let's not start something here. No harm done, none wanted, right? It's been a long day in the back of the RV and everyone's cranky, so I think the best thing for all of us is to separate and go to bed."

Merle raised a hand and touched very close to his eye with his finger before pointing at Jim in a message that said: _I got my eye on you_. The elder Dixon stalked away, casually flipping up his middle finger behind his back so that Jim could be sure to not miss it. Jim, however, turned his attention to Andrea without much emotion.

"What's he botherin' you about?"

"He's a Dixon; it just comes naturally."

"Don't see Daryl doing it."

"That's not the point. Merle's just—not acting normal right now. I don't know what it is and I honestly don't really care, but if you get on his bad side things are going to get ugly really fast, so just do me a favor and stay out of his way."

"How'm I s'posed to do that when he's always around you?" asked Jim, swinging his bat aimlessly.

"Stay away from me, I guess," said Andrea, shrugging.

Jim scowled at her. "So the half-wit asshole gets to hang around, but I gotta beat it? How's that fair? I've got one person in this whole damn camp that I talk to and now that dumb bastard's gone and taken that off of my list. Bullsh-,"

"Jim," said Andrea in warning, "just sit down and get a hold of yourself. I'm only asking for a few hours for Merle to let off some steam. All I'm trying to do is avoid an argument and I would think that you'd be working with me to accomplish this."

"Not at the expense've me."

Andrea drew her hands up to her face, fixing Jim with an icy glare. "Are you going to cooperate or not?" She could see the cogs and wheels working behind Jim's eyes, see the strain of his face as he considered all possibilities, but he gave in and trudged away, no longer giving any life to his bat as he returned to the RV. Back inside her tent Andrea rolled onto her left side and openly yawned with the full intention of taking a well deserved nap, but Amy struck up a conversation almost immediately.

"I don't know whether to envy you or feel sorry for you."

"What do you mean?" asked Andrea with her voice slightly muffled from the pillow.

"Well, you have two guys hitting on you at the same time, but neither of them are exactly what I'd call winners."

Andrea pushed herself up onto her elbow and shook her head at Amy, annoyed at her sister's innocent, yet oblivious assumptions. "You've been talking to Dale too much. There's nothing going on with me or anyone else and even if there was, I don't think you have the right to judge on whether or not they're _winners_. If I was in the market for a man, my options would be very limited now and while I'm not saying that I would choose Jim or Merle to hook up with, I wouldn't rule out the possibility of something happening. I consider them to be _men_, if we're trying to establish a baseline or category to put them in because they certainly have a high level of testosterone, though perhaps Jim is a bit more restrained about it than Merle, but _winners_ isn't a word I would use at all. They can't do anything about where they came from or how they were raised, how they ended up with us, or who they lost and you should be ashamed to make that assumption at all."

Amy made a "pftt" sound, trying and failing to act like her sister's scolding made no difference to her, but Andrea could tell that she was feeling hurt that Jim and Merle had gotten off on better terms than she had. Andrea closed both of her eyes, one at a time and for once, felt extremely glad to be in this musty-smelling light blue camping tent rather than the cramped quarters of Dale's 1977 Winnebago.

She should have known that it wouldn't last, should have foreseen what was to come when Merle first made the threatening act of putting his hand on his knife, but she had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, even with Merle being—well, Merle.

She had been asleep for the better part of three hours and it was past dark as she sat up to the sound of heavy swearing and mixed shouts. Amy was already on her way out the door flap as Andrea hurried after her and the two made their way up the small slope where the RV was parked and a small band had gathered to watch the unsettling fight between Jim and Merle progress. They hadn't yet succumbed to using their fists, but spit was flying from Merle's mouth and Jim's face had gone way past brick red. Jim was at least four inches taller than Merle, but the elder Dixon had several more pounds of muscle on him, which was why Andrea immediately felt a stab of fear. Against walkers, Jim was a beast with his bat because no technique was needed, but Merle was an experienced fighter and could take down the taller man in seconds if he really wanted to. Shane and Dale were trying to keep them away from each other in no man's land while Daryl argued from a reasonable distance with his brother, for he had probably attempted to calm Merle down at a closer range before and it had not gone so well.

But even Andrea had to admit that Jim was stepping far out of his comfort zone since he was speaking almost as much as Merle, which was a thing unheard of.

"You could be helpin' out with something 'round here, Dixon, but instead you sit on your ass annoying the hell outta everyone and creepin' other people out," shouted Jim, trying to get around Dale.

"Who'm I creepin' out, bud?" Merle demanded. "Huh? Y'girlfriend, is that who? Seems t'me like if she didn't want me 'round, she wouldda said somethin'."

"She _did_, asshole, but she ain't the only one who you need to back off from!"

"Merle, Jim, y'all need to stop this right now or somebody's gonna get hurt," warned Shane.

"Yeah, and it ain't gonna be me," Merle growled.

"I can stop anytime! You're the one who tripped me and started this whole thing in the first place, you bastard."

"Naw, _you_ started it when y'nosed in to business that don't concern you, Jim-bo. Choice've women ain't that big 'round here, so I get what I can."

Jim shoved Dale aside and raised his fist with every intention of knocking Merle's lights out, but Andrea got to him first and used both of her hands to push against his chest. "Jim, that's enough. Leave it and walk away while you still can."

"Don't tell me you're _defendin' him_?" said Jim, throwing her a hateful look.

"No, I'm not, but I'm trying to help both of you before you do something you're going to regret. Back off."

"That woman got you whipped, son," called Merle, "shouldda stuck with the old one."

Jim threw Andrea out of the way, all trace of rationalism gone from his face as he took three long strides and swung his bat at Merle who had elbowed Shane out of the way to fight. He ducked as the bat cut through the air over his head and then he tackled Jim around the waist. His hand went to his knife and unsheathed it, but Jim crossed his wrists to give his dominant hand support as he blocked the stab by grasping Merle's own wrist tightly. Shane stepped in to break up the fight, but Merle dug into his belt and surfaced with a Browning Hi-Power pistol, cocking it with a no-bullshit expression. Jim took the opportunity to jab his palm into Merle's jaw and roll sideways, though as he did Merle kicked out at him and caught him in the stomach. Jim hugged the wounded area, staggering to his feet. In the process of standing up, Merle pointed his pistol directly at him.

Andrea spread her arms out in front of Jim and raised a cautious hand. "Now, Merle, that's enough. Let it go."

"Git outta the way," Merle snarled at her.

"Merle, please, stop."

"I ain't stupid; I can see y'all gettin' ready t'jump me, take me down, and tie me to some damn tree 'til a walker passes by. I ain't worth shit 'round here, am I? Well, I ain't gotta put up with that anymore'n I gotta put up with some half-ass mechanic with a bat. We had a deal that nobody noses into my business or tells me how things go down and I don't mess with 'em, but your whiny lil' bitch've a friend there had t'go and complain 'bout me talkin' to his girl and now he's gonna pay for it. Now git outta the way or I'mma make you, woman."

"He's lookin' out for the group, not just her, bro, lay off it," said Daryl.

"You shaddap," said Merle, not taking his eyes off of Jim, which was his last mistake.

Shane cocked his shotgun and rested it against Merle's spine. "You should've quit when you had the chance, Merle. Now I gotta ask you to drop that pistol in the dirt or I'm gonna have to insist."

Merle managed to smirk, a terrific feat, given his situation, but he tucked his pistol away and spun around to face Shane. "Forget it; I'm outta here." He strode over to his tent, jammed a few things into a pack, and lugged it onto his shoulder, appealing to Daryl. "Y'comin' or what?"

Daryl had a pained expression on his face so similar to his brother's as he stood torn between staying with a group of well-armed people he hardly knew, or loyally following his brother out into the unwelcome and unforgiving darkness. He stepped back slightly with a small shake of his head. "Sorry, bro, not this time."

"Fuck you," spat Merle. He pointed his knife at Andrea and then, without another word, strode off into the night without looking back once.


	7. Chapter 7: A Shot in the Dark

If it already wasn't hard enough trying to convince Jim that he could be sociable with others, now Andrea had to try and make him realize that Merle's leaving, was, in fact, _not_ his fault. She posed the comment that Merle was a stubborn ass who wanted to do whatever the hell he wanted to and that he was bound to leave eventually anyway, but Jim was set on punishing himself for making the camp lose one of its most valuable fighters. As they took an extremely late supper by the campfire, Dale went off into a long rant about how Merle was not cut out for group survival and how it was no fault of Jim's for Merle's inability to see eye to eye with anyone. Daryl didn't accept his portion of the meal, but went to stalk the surrounding woods wordlessly, which was what brought on Jim's guilt anew.

"There, y'see the look on his face?" he asked in an undertone as Daryl left. "He had to choose between his brother or us, and now that he chose us, he's regretting it something terrible."

"Oh, come off it, Jim, when did those two _ever_ get along? Trust me on this one; Daryl's better off now that Merle's isn't here," said Dale, tossing a few twigs onto the fire. Jim looked like he was about to present a new argument, but Andrea jabbed his leg with her fork, half aggravated, half angered, and altogether tired out.

"If you say one more thing about how this is your fault, I will shove this fork down your throat, past your Adam's apple, into your stomach and then wait for it to start giving you stomach pains. Just shut up, will you? At first I couldn't get you to string two words together and now you won't just stuff a cork in it. Shut up, shut _up_!"

Dale's jaw dropped open ever so slightly, Amy gazed from her sister to Jim and back again, and a brief expression of anger flashed across Jim's face. Andrea wasn't sure if she was the cause of the anger or if Jim was still upset with himself, but she didn't particularly care because she never, _ever_ wanted to see that look again. When Merle had insulted Jim, the anger was just outlying rage, but the look he had just given her was much deeper, much more _there_ and it scared her. He looked far more human when he had that terrible expression than when he was casually talking to her.

As a result he extended his hand to apologize and she quickly drew back, tightening her legs together and pulling her arm out of his reach. His motion did not go unnoticed by Dale, Amy, Shane, or Glenn, all of whom exchanged uncomfortable looks and then made hasty and awkward excuses for leaving the fire. Andrea hated them all in that moment for leaving her to confront Jim, or not, but leaving her alone in the situation all the same. She cursed her sister and Dale, cursed Merle Dixon for putting them in this shit hole in the first place, and cursing every walker in existence.

Jim left no time for embarrassed silence as he plunged into his apology. "That wasn't deliberate. I didn't know I was doing it—I didn't mean—I'm sorry…" he said pleadingly, touching her arm. She leaned forward to pull away, but changed her mind halfway through and turned to face him on the log they were sharing.

"Jim, why do you talk to me?"

"I—what?" asked Jim, apparently confused.

"Why do you talk to me?" asked Andrea, moving a little closer so that he couldn't mistake anything on her face. "Why do you even bother wasting breath on having conversations with me?"

Jim shrugged in a very halfhearted way. "You sorta forced yourself at me, made me get talkin'. I didn't choose to-,"

"Yes, you did. You could have told me to piss off and to mind my own business, but you made the decision to keep talking to me, even getting borderline obsessed with keeping Merle off of my back. Why is it that you do that? I want an honest answer."

"I don't know," said Jim helplessly. "That's as honest of an answer I can give you. I honestly don't know. I'll tell you when I figure it out, but for right now, I ain't got the slightest idea."

"Well, at least that's something, right?" Andrea sat down with her back against the log and folded her arms snugly in against her chest. "I'm on watch after you, so I'll be right here. Just wake me up." As she rolled slightly onto her right side and nestled her head as comfortably as she could against the log, her mind began to drift in and out of the partial dream when you're almost asleep, but the slightest noise or tiniest movement jerks you back into consciousness. Mentally grumbling to herself about insomnia, she tried to block out the terrifying image on Jim's face, but it was no easy feat since he had been so close when it happened and the dim lighting of the fire did little to help get rid of the thought. His face contorted into that of a walker's which shoved her head out of the way and gnashed its gruesome teeth into her jugular. She swatted at it futilely and then sat up on her sleeping bag, seeing Jim's hunched figure sitting beside her.

"Why am—how—did you carry me?" she stammered, feeling around for the lamp.

"Yeah, you conked out," said Jim. "Got Ed to take over for your shift."

"Owch!" Andrea had jammed her fingers against the ground in surprise and after finally locating the lamp, she switched it on. "You got _Ed_ to take over? I must still be dreaming."

"You weren't dreamin'; you were having a nightmare and a real bad one, I'll wager," said Jim, forwardly. "I thought that carrying you inside would wake you up, but I guess not. Only been sittin' here 'bout twenty minutes."

"You could've just woke me up," said Andrea, disgruntled, then with a sinking feeling realized that sometimes she talked in her sleep. "Did I say anything?" she asked, dreading the answer. Jim shook his head and from what she had learned about him, she could tell that he wasn't lying. Still, she was a little embarrassed that he had seen her in such a vulnerable state and she remembered that she had been dreaming about him, which was something she hoped he never found out.

"You didn't have to stay up," she whispered so as not to wake Amy on the neighboring sleeping bag.

"Yeah, 'cuz leavin' you outside's real smart," said Jim sardonically.

"Well, it isn't much safer in here, I'll tell you that. After you brought me in, though, you could have gone to bed."

"Alright, I get it, I'll leave."

Andrea scowled. "I really hate you sometimes. No one's that stupid to interpret what I just said as 'get out'."

"It's just the _way_ y'say things, Andrea."

"Andrea?"

Amy lifted her head off of her pillow, straining her eyes against the light to see Jim, who she gave a rather unpleasant look. "What're you doing in here?"

"Leaving," said Jim.

Pushing the sleeping bag cover off of her, Amy moved towards the flap, but Andrea called her back, asking where she was going.

"I need to use the little survivor's room, if you don't mind."

"Well, then, take this," said Andrea, handing her sister the Ladysmith, but Amy gave a dry laugh.

"It's twenty feet to the RV, Andrea."

When Andrea raised an eyebrow dangerously, Amy exaggerated a sigh and scooped up the weapon before leaving. Andrea rubbed at her eyes, yawning and moved her sleeping bag over. "Well, if you want you can sleep right here. I'll bet the RV's really musty after so many people used the back room to sleep and we haven't done laundry yet."

"Naw, I better not. Seems like your sister don't like me," said Jim.

"No, that's not it, it's just—"

"Walker!" screamed Amy.

Jim had hold on his bat before Andrea could even throw back her covers and as she reached for her Ladysmith, she remembered that she had given it to her sister. Scrambling after Jim, she saw Ed Peltier aiming Dale's rifle at a walker emerging from the woods on the left that was coming straight at Amy who was fumbling with the Ladysmith.

"Shoot, Ed!" Jim shouted and a second later the shot rang out. The walker dropped down in the grass and Andrea rushed out to Amy, but before she could cover the complete distance another walker appeared at the tree line and a third came staggering in from the right. Jim held out his arm to keep Andrea and Amy back before he took a running start and did a mid-air leap over a bundle of unpacked supplies, soaring in a hurdle's jump and landing two feet from the walker which he promptly put down with several well-placed hits to its face and skull.

Shane came hobbling out of his tent on one foot, pulling his unlaced boot on. "Anyone hurt?" he called to which Ed fired off another round, dispatching the third walker. Amy held up a hand and commanded, "Listen!" as Shane checked his shotgun for bullets.

Andrea blocked out the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest as she listened hard for whatever it was that Amy was hearing. It took a moment, but then the sound became unmistakable: leaves and twigs crunching underfoot in an unstructured rhythm.

A walker's stride.

There was another coming out of the trees behind Jim, Andrea was certain. Amy moved in closer, raising the Ladysmith. "I'll get it," she said quietly, waiting for an assured shot. Andrea was about to encourage her when she heard something new, something definitely _not_ walker-like.

Heavy, male breathing…and she knew that voice much too well even for her own liking.

"Watch out, Jim," said Amy, squeezing the trigger.

"Amy, don't-,"

"NO!" Jim roared…one second too late. The bullet left the Ladysmith nozzle and cut right past Jim's ear, rocketing off into the woods where they all heard it make contact with something very solid.

"No," said Andrea and Jim together.

They heard the body fall even from this distance and sprinted out to it, crashing through the underbrush. Andrea ran with a sickening feel in her stomach. She prayed against hope that what she was about to stumble upon was not what she was expecting, even though she knew there was no possible way it could be otherwise. Jim had a longer stride and arrived on the scene before her, but Andrea was the first to react as she came upon the very thing she was dreading. She saw Merle Dixon flattened out on the forest floor with both of his weapons lying just out of reach of his hands where he had apparently dropped them in shock at being shot. There was blood oozing out of the bullet wound in his upper left shoulder as well as from the corners of his mouth.

"Ffffuck!" he choked as a red bubble burst at the corner of his mouth.

Andrea dropped to her knees beside him and lifted his head onto her lap, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of her hand. "Jim, go get Dale," she said softly.

"I can't leave-,"

"Now, damn it!"

She scooped up Merle's Hi-Power and knife and set it close to her legs as she pressurized his wound. Merle started to sob in pain, grappling for her hand. His words came across as mostly indistinguishable, but here and there she made sense of some of them.

"Left 'im 'lone…bullet…lotta walkers…son've a bitch…Daryl…comin' in fast…Andrea…_Andrea_…"

"Shh, it'll be fine," she whispered to him. "Jim, where the hell are you?"

In answer to her calling Dale and Shane appeared, the older man carrying the first aid kit and the former officer burdened with bandages of all sorts. He and Dale immediately set to work on Merle who luckily was in the limbo with his consciousness and therefore couldn't identify them to deny their help. Andrea stroked his forehead, not sure what else there was to be done, but wishing for any solution to present itself. Soon she felt Jim's hand on her shoulder, gently tugging her back. Without noticing him, she saw that Merle had passed out and she set his head down in the grass, allowing Jim to lead her back into the camp where Lori and Carol were trying to calm Amy who was in hysterics about shooting Merle and terrified at the prospect of having to explain things to Daryl when he returned. Andrea made to go to her sister's aid, but Jim held her back with a slight shake of his head.

"She's fine right now; the women are taking care of her."

"He's not going to make it, is he?" Andrea whispered, to which Jim drew her in tight to his chest and held her in a fashion that demonstrated how little he was embarrassed. Andrea put one hand to his chest and hugged herself with the other, letting a tear or two drop from her exhausted eyes as the two stood in the clearing.


	8. Chapter 8: Chivalry Is Not Yet Dead

Andrea's biggest fear besides losing Merle to an accident was that he would find the strength to seek vengeance on Amy for her instinctive shooting. Everyone agree that it wasn't Amy's fault for firing at what she thought was a walker and it wasn't Merle's fault for not announcing himself, but the fact that he hadn't puzzled them. Why had he come back mere hours after leaving and why didn't he call out to them as he returned? Someone who took as much precaution when it came to walkers as Merle should have said _something_ to let the others know that he was approaching and yet Merle had remained silent. Andrea had seen the tiniest flush in his ruddy face before it went pale from blood loss when she and Jim found him, which told her that he had been running back to camp, but the fact that his weapons had been in his hands worried her. Had he been coming to shoot or stab someone or was he simply protecting himself against the walkers he was most likely to encounter in the woods? So many things were left unanswered and would not be known until Merle awoke, if he did.

_If…_

Would it benefit anyone to have Merle back? After the way he had been treated, Andrea wouldn't be surprised if he just stalked off again because the Dixons didn't easily forgive, but perhaps, given his condition, he would want to stick around. They could certainly use him in a fight, but he probably wouldn't want to help and until then he would have to be taken care of. Still, no matter how much he acted like a complete ass, he was a human being and those were few and far between nowadays.

Andrea wasn't the only one repenting what had happened, however. Jim constantly left her side at the fire pit to go into the Dixon tent and check on him whenever someone's shift ended to watch over him. Dale rotated someone every two hours to sit at Merle's bedside, sponge his forehead, monitor his breathing, and keep a close eye on his bandages. Lori was rather reluctant to attend such a task especially since she had no love whatsoever for Merle, but when Shane pointed out the few good things Merle had done for the group as a whole she gave in. Thank God for Shane Walsh, for his knowledge was probably the only thing that saved Merle. In rather gruesome detail he retold the story of how he and Dale had had to remove the bullet and that Merle was the luckiest bastard alive to have the bullet miss his heart. He stated that if Merle was not conscious by mid-afternoon, he most likely was not ever going to come back and that they would have to deliver the devastating news to Daryl.

For this very reason Andrea volunteered herself up to sit with Merle two shifts in a row. She was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she had a gut feeling that if Merle woke up for anyone besides Daryl, it would be her. She sat on the ground beside his cot and whispered a few words every couple of minutes, hoping that if he heard her, he would give a sign. It occurred to her that he might very well pass away as she sat there, asking him to come back, but if there was one thing she was certain of at that moment, it was that he would say or do something before he died, if he did. She suspected what all the mockery and sarcasm from this hard-ass might be, and though the thought was enough to make her wince in disgust, she also felt rather touched. Jim's approach to emotion was to try and make it as neutral as possible, but for someone like Merle Dixon who thought emotion was a weakness, perhaps derision was the only way he knew how to express himself. Now, what she had done to merit such a punishment as having two men seek her out especially when she had only given one of them any sort of sign was a mystery to her, though she didn't dwell on it too long. What would come would come at its own pace; if Merle survived, she would just have to find some way around the tension, but she would much rather have that tension than a dead body on her conscience.

She pinched herself several times to keep herself awake, though that only succeeded in making her body ache even more which in turn caused her to long sleep. After staring at Merle's blood-stained face for three hours, she felt as if she could sketch it perfectly and she told herself that he wasn't _that_ bad-looking either, not attractive _per se_, but not downright ugly either…but that could have been her weariness talking. Her head slowly began to droop as her eyelids became hundred pound weights…

Something sharp dug into the back of her skull and she reached blindly for the pistol she had recovered from Amy. The side of her face was lying on top of Merle's chest and she was certain that his leather vest had left an imprint on her cheek. As she tried to pull her head back she felt the pain again, realizing that Merle's fingernails were digging into her hair as he tried to clench a fist. Prying his fingers out of her blonde strands, she saw the first specks of light rising in the east through the tent.

"Andrea, you need to take a break," said Carol as she appeared in the doorway, but Andrea shushed her with an impatient hand, leaning over Merle's mouth to listen. His breathing was louder, not as shallow, though still pained. She heard the last part of her name on his exhale and spotted flecks of red on his teeth as his lips pulled back in a grimace. His eyebrows knitted together and he subconsciously put his right hand against the wound, which Andrea quickly removed it and set it back at his side.

"Merle?" she said quite loudly. "Can you hear me?"

With the speed of paint drying, one of Merle's eyes opened halfway and stared straight at her. "You…" he mumbled and then fell back into the realm of nightmares.

"Tell Dale and Shane that he opened his eyes and talked," Andrea instructed, dipping the sponging rag back into the water bowl to wet his forehead and clean off his mouth again. When the two men arrived, Andrea attempted to get Merle to speak once more, but Dale shooed her away with firm orders to get some rest.

_Rest, my ass_.

If there was one thing that she wanted for herself more than anything right now but also one thing she knew she could not get, it was _rest_. With Merle in his condition, Daryl still gone, and multiple-personality-disorder butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, she didn't think she'd be getting any sleep in the day to come. Outside there was activity brewing here and there as the survivors began their daily chores, but two people who weren't were lying side by side next to the fire outside Andrea's tent. Jim had his bat resting across his outstretched legs and his head hanging over the back of the log he was using as a pillow and with her head ever so precariously placed on his shoulder was Amy. It was times like these that Andrea wished she had a camera, but seeing as how she didn't, she could only sit down across from them and watch for the longest time as if they were a film she couldn't get enough of.

Finally, when Carl dropped a bucket of woodchips close by, Jim gave a small snort and awoke, snapping his head up. He saw Amy's head and partially frowned. Andrea gave a small laugh, which caught his attention and his sun-burnt face turned a delicate shade of pink.

"What was that you were saying about her not liking you?" asked Andrea. "She's a heavy sleeper; just set her head down on the log."

Jim moved out gingerly and placed her head down as he stood up and brushed off his jeans. "How's he doin'?" he asked.

"He woke up for about five seconds and said something, so I think he might pull through," said Andrea, stifling a yawn. "Shane's fixing him up with a sling right now."

"Tough old bastard," said Jim, poking the fire back to life.

"Old?" Andrea repeated. "Hell, Jim, he can't be much older than you or me."

"But he is older. I'd say mid forties."

"I'm thirty-two," said Andrea brazenly. "You can't count on a person's face to tell their age. I mean, look at Amy; her generation has this similar quality that makes everyone look a lot younger than they actually are and I'm guessing Merle's generation is the opposite. You'd never know Amy was twenty because she looks like she's sixteen. Dale looks sixty-something when he's only fifty-seven. Merle could be my age for all we know."

"Doubtful," said Jim, stretching his arms above his head. "Daryl, maybe, but not him."

"How old are you, Jim, since you seem so interested all of a sudden in age?"

Jim didn't meet her eyes as he mumbled, "Thirty-five."

"I would have guessed right about there."

"Why's it matter?" asked Jim gruffly.

"It doesn't. We're just sitting here talking, is there something wrong with that? People talk every once in a while about things that no one gives a damn about and there doesn't have to be a reason for it. It's refreshing, don't you think?"

Jim shrugged and Andrea let out a long, exasperated sigh. "One day," she vowed, "I'll break you in like a dog and get you to express more than words."

"Heads up," said Glenn, "Daryl's back."

Amy twitched and woke with a start, glancing around in all directions. Andrea pulled her to her feet and the two set off with Jim to gather in front of the Dixon tent as Daryl came plodding back into camp with his shoes and lower pants caked in mud. Upon seeing the others regarding him with caution, he rounded on Shane.

"What's goin' on?"  
>"There's been an accident," said Shane. "Walkers attacked last night; people panicked and shots were fired. Merle came back, but he didn't give us no warning that he was comin'. He got shot in the left shoulder. He's still alive, but we're takin' it minute by minute for now 'cuz we still ain't too sure if he's gonna make it."<p>

Daryl blanched, shoulders loosening and eyebrows rising. "He's been shot," he repeated for confirmation.

"That's right," said Shane warily.

"Who did it?" asked Daryl in a harsh whisper. Rounding on the others, he held each of them in his gaze moment by moment. "Which one've you sons've bitches shot my brother?" When no one answered he stalked forward, making them all take a collective step back. "Huh? I wanna know who did it _now_, damn it!"

Amy was trembling at Andrea's side, but Andrea could sense that she was bracing herself to confess. At the exact moment that her mouth opened, Jim raised his hand (a completely unnecessary act since he was already pushing six foot three) and said strongly, "I did. It was an accident. I heard something closing in and fired."

All of them saw it coming, but no one reacted to stop it. Daryl set his crossbow into firing position faster than any quick-draw man of the Wild West could pull out a hogleg and he fired. Perhaps it was the slight wind swooping through the valley, or maybe Daryl's aim was off-balance, or it could very well have been Shane's shout and small touch on Daryl's arm as he tried to stop him, but the arrow did not meet its intended mark of Jim's forehead. Instead it whooshed past the right side of his face, slicing a long strip of skin off of his cheek, which splattered blood everywhere. Clapping a hand to his face, Jim jerked back, losing his footing and tumbling down onto the damp grass.

Shane and Morales both tackled Daryl at the same time as the younger Dixon shouted, "You're the reason he left and now you go'n shoot 'im, y'piece've cowardly shit! I'll kill ya!"  
>"It'd do you some good to shut the hell up right now, Daryl," said Shane as he held Daryl's arms down.<p>

Andrea and Amy reached Jim at the same time, but it took both of them to drag his hand away from his face. Using a bit of her shirt, Andrea pressed the material against his cheek to stem the blood flow, shaking her head. "Jim, I swear…" She left the sentence hanging, for she couldn't think of a single complimentary insult to throw at him, couldn't come up with any sort of scolding or praise for his stupid, reckless, and insane act of chivalry, but she was positive that from here on out, Amy would not have any problem with him.


	9. Chapter 9: The Use of Words

Although he was against wearing a giant bandage plastered to his face with surgical tape, Jim eventually gave in when both Andrea and Amy promised to gag him with it instead if he didn't cooperate. Morales and Glenn kept watch over Daryl in the RV just in case he was still feeling the need to shoot another arrow at Jim. However, Jim was not hosting any ill feelings towards Daryl, for the younger Dixon's anger was understandable. To Andrea's immense relief, Dale announced by sunset of the next day that Merle was now attempting to sit up and had managed to stomach some water and a few crackers. He didn't make an appearance outside until that night when Daryl helped him over to a lounge chair to sit down by the fire. His face was still pale, but he had a bit of color in his cheeks and was able to flip Jim off with his available hand once he had settled into the chair, for Daryl had been prompt to inform him that it was Jim who had accidentally shot him. With his left arm in a sling, he looked strangely lopsided as he tried to comfortably adjust in his seat. Andrea was cautious of her approach to him now that he was conscious, but she nevertheless asked his well-being after Daryl had given his brother a plate with a small bit of food.

"How're you holding up?" she asked.

Merle raised an eyebrow incredulously at her. "Y'serious? Hell, woman, how do I look t'you? I juss been shot by that asshole y'got a thing for."

"You don't have to start something right now. I just asked," said Andrea defensively. "I'm not saying it was your fault, but you came back when no one was expecting it. Why?"

Merle suddenly clapped a hand to his forehead. "Aw, shit, I f'got! Walkers, there's a small town juss up the road and it's crawlin' with geeks. That's s'far as I got when I turned 'round t'come back and—and, uh…"

"Warn us, we know," said Andrea quietly as Shane and Dale discussed this devastating bit of information. She gave Merle a small smile and then turned her attention to the discussion at hand. Shane expressed his concerns about walkers being so close and made the mistake of saying the three words none of them wanted to hear: "pack it up".

"No," said Andrea firmly. "We just got all of that crap unpacked and we've hardly had time to recuperate. We need to wait things out here for a while, see if the walkers even pose a threat to us."

"Andrea, walkers already got into the camp and that's how Merle got shot," Dale pointed out. "We can't risk that happening again. It just makes sense to find a different place to stake out. Besides, this spot isn't well covered anyway."

"I'll hate you forever if you make me pack up that tent again, Dale," said Andrea, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Behind Merle gave a snort which caused her to round on him in indignation. "And what are _you_ laughing at?" she challenged.

"Y'don't wanna pack up a damn tent, huh? Life too hard f'you to getcher purty lil' fingernails dirty, is that it? Hell, I'll do it m'self if it'll shutcha up." He stood up a little too quickly and swayed, but Andrea grabbed hold of his bicep with caution.

"You sit your ass back down, Dixon. I'm not concerned about packing the tent up; I'm just tired of sitting in the RV. You won't do anyone any good by helping and I don't want your help to begin with, so take a seat and bask in the luxury of having to do diddely-squat."

"Now y'start standin' up for y'self," said Merle so that only she could hear him. "Growin' more'n more into my type've woman e'ry day, ain'tcha?"

Andrea didn't know if Jim heard Merle, but he certainly acted like he had as he came marching over to her, taking her by the arm and escorting her to the tent where he began to pull up the spokes buried in the ground. Confused by his sudden change in behavior, Andrea went inside to pack up hers and Amy's belongings before Jim collapsed the tent down on top of them and made a mess of things. As she began to roll up her sleeping bag the flap opened and Jim came in, stuffing random objects into Amy's duffel bag.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?" asked Andrea, sitting back on her knees to watch him shove a face towel into the bag with the ferocity of someone hammering a particularly stubborn nail into a board.

"I'm fine," said Jim distractedly.

"That wasn't my question. You nearly tore my arm out of its socket when you dragged me over here. Am I not allowed to talk to Merle now, is that it? Because you couldn't have made things any more obvious with how you've been acting."

"Y'need to stay away from him; s'all I'm sayin'."

Andrea let out a dry laugh, suddenly feeling a hot burst of anger. "Is that an order, Jim? Are you telling me what I can and can't do here like I'm your wife or child? Let's get something straight; I am _not_ your wife and I sure as hell am not a kid that you can push around. I'm a grown woman who happens to care about keeping Merle around this time so that he doesn't get himself killed. He's one of the few people I trust to protect the rest of us, including my sister, and I'll talk to him if I damn well please and you can't say shit about it, understand?"

Jim straightened up and dropped Amy's bag. "It was a suggestion, not an order."

"You're right, it was, but dragging me over here away from Merle like a disobedient child is taking it too far. I get it that you don't want me near him, but in his present condition, he can't do anything to me, not that he'd want to with you and Shane around, but you need to back the hell off unless you've got something to say."

"Don't matter if he can't physically do anything; he's still dangerous and an asshole and I don't want—I don't think it's a good idea to get too friendly with him."

Andrea shook her head, stepping closer so that she had to crane her neck up slightly to look him in the eye. "You know what _I_ think, Jim? I think you're jealous and too damn embarrassed to admit it, so if you can't bring yourself to tell me the truth, then you have no right offering me advice that's compromised out of jealousy."

She noticed for the first time that despite Jim's height, he seemed small with his personality in comparison to her who had a temperament too big and eccentric for her own good…just like Merle. Then she realized that Jim feared that Merle would corrupt her and change her into someone who no longer cared for the former car mechanic. She was the only one with whom he could hold a true conversation and he feared that he would lose her to Merle Dixon, someone who would never find his way into Andrea's good books with his terrible attitude and raunchy nature. Jim actually felt that Merle was worthy competition…though for what?

"Use your words, Jim. Tell me what it is you're afraid of. You can be completely honest and blunt, I don't care, just give it to me straight so we can settle this before it gets too out of hand"

Jim hung his head and wiped the back of his wrist under the brim of his duck-billed hat. "Ask me to use somethin' other than words. Words are the one thing I can't make work."

"What else is there? If I say show me what you mean, that won't get us anywhere because there's nothing to show. I have to hear it from you to understand what's going on inside your head. No one's going to hear what you say except me, Jim, I promise. I'm listening."

Jim dug his hands deep into the solitude of his oversized pockets and bending swiftly over, pecked her on the cheek before practically fleeing out the door flap. Andrea lifted a hand and touched two fingers to the spot where his lips had met her skin which seemed to burn and freeze over in unison. Was this a shock to her when she had suspected it all along? She admitted that she knew there was _something_ stirring inside Jim's seemingly empty and carefree head, but she never thought he would actually _do_ anything on that impulse. How, then, should she react, or should she show any sign at all? Should she show any encouragement for this relationship to continue?

If she was completely honest with herself, she had been wishing for Jim to make his move ever since she had first caught him looking at her. He certainly wasn't the outspoken dark skinned and rough-eyed man she had expected to fall for, but he was courageous beyond any doubt, gentle, and yet fierce while still managing to host a set of brilliant chocolate brown eyes that she found herself constantly thinking of in full detail. Yes, she was attracted to Jim, though perhaps that wasn't the right word to use in the apocalypse. She felt genuine love for this man and wasn't about to lose something that she finally had going for herself just because others in camp might start to gossip. She knew now that the feeling was mutual between her and Jim and with a leap in her heart, she returned to rolling up the sleeping bag.

Once again the supplies were strapped down to the top of the RV and they were on their way with Merle sitting in the back room throwing up from the constant jerking of the Winnebago while Andrea decided to squeeze in between the supplies on the roof and dangle her legs over the side of the vehicle to avoid the cramped quarters below. She refused to be stuck in a claustrophobic environment once again for who knew how long. Shane was driving the car directly behind them and whenever they crossed gazes she gave him a purposeful glare.

She had no feelings of guilt about what Amy might say when she discovered who her sister had fallen for. Of all the men in camp, Andrea had clicked with the one who spoke the least. Shane, Glenn, Daryl, Merle and admittedly Dale were all candidates who would have been chosen before Jim by any other woman, but none of them had what Andrea was looking for. Shane had a thing for Lori, Andrea knew from all the times she had seen them look at each other when they thought no one was looking at _them._ Glenn was young—too young for Andrea since he was nearly ten years her junior, even if he was the brains of the operation. The Dixons had almost nothing going for them besides the fact that they were men and they knew how to handle themselves in a fight. And Dale—the very thought of it made Andrea cringe, for Dale was the overly protective father or brother figure and someone she would never _ever_ consider in that sort of way.

Jim was no shining trophy, but he had the little things that Andrea realized she desired in a man, the things she would be sure to miss if she had chosen someone else. She hadn't yet spoken to him since the event in the shelter of the tent, but she had seen him watching her almost in apology and she waited for him to approach her. She wouldn't go seeking him because it wasn't her job. Her job was to watch, wait, and finally give an answer when and if Jim ever mustered the courage to speak to her again.


	10. Chapter 10: The Strangest Pairing

The second location Shane deemed passable was a secluded set of houses just short of the state lines. There were three houses, one of them already falling into a state of disarray, but after the able-bodied men had searched them for walkers, everyone began to move their things inside. There was one two-story house with four upstairs bedrooms and two bathroom which Andrea, Amy, Jim, Dale, and to Andrea's bitter resentment, the Dixons chose to lodge in. They all shared three of the rooms and left the fourth for weapons and supplies to be used at a moment's notice. From hers and Amy's room, Andrea could see the neighboring house where Shane, Glenn, Morales and his family, Lori, and Carl were holding up. The houses were admittedly much better than sleeping on worn down blankets and sleeping bags, but now there was a sense of separation between the small parties. They often were walking in and out of the houses, but they slept apart and ate apart now, which contributed to the overall sense of isolation.

Dale locked the front and back doors before they bedded down that night, a strange concept considering the fact that none of them had locked anything in months. The day had been spent boarding up windows, setting up alarms, and completely securing the houses against a walker attack. Jim had been busy tending to these duties and staying well-clear of Andrea, which tugged at her heartstrings despite the fact that she knew Jim was only being cautious and apologetic for his actions. Merle, meanwhile, had helped out with anything that wouldn't put too much stress on his shoulder and somehow those tasks ended up being ones that placed him in close proximity to Andrea. She swore under her breath every time Jim walked past and saw the two of them working together.

It was for this reason that she went to bed under a blanket of guilt that night, tossing around, unable to rid herself of Jim's defeated expression until finally she threw back her covers and snuck out of the room to go and find something to brew to keep her awake. In the kitchen she saw Jim with his head on the table and a pistol close at hand. Apparently he had fallen asleep on guard duty, though that wasn't really a necessity anymore. She set about to fixing up a pot of coffee without normal coffee-making utilities, hoping that the smell would wake him, but he must have not slept since two days before when she had woken him up at the campfire, for he was still conked out when she had fixed two cups of the closest rendition of coffee she could get. She put her hand on his head and ran her finger up and down the base of his skull where a few hairs were poking out from under his cap. He gave a small start, reaching for the pistol, but she closed her other hand around his wrist.

"Jim, you need to go upstairs to bed. Dale said that there's no point in keeping watch if it's from the inside and we're safer here than in tents anyway, so get some sleep because you look like hell."

"We ain't any safer," said Jim, stubbornly shaking the weariness out of his eyes. "Y'only think it's better here, but it ain't. There's still walkers out there, right? False sense of security, that's what it is."

"No, it's you being a paranoid ass, now are you going to go to bed or am I going to have to threaten you with something worse than surgical tape?"

Jim touched the bandage on his face, scowling. Andrea sighed and handed him one of the two cups of coffee. "Then drink this." She sat down across from him, sipping at the less-than-pleasant drink in silence and when she had drained her cup, she felt no need to stick around. Rising out of her chair, she rinsed the cup in the sink, turned it upside down on the drying towel, and started out of the room when Jim caught her by two fingers. There was pain in his eyes as he struggled to put his emotions into words.

"You…Merle and you…he isn't—you're not-?"

Andrea stepped back into the kitchen towards him, grasping his hand fully with hers. "Jim, there's one thing you need to know about me; I don't _ever_ want my name paired, for whatever reason, with Merle Dixon." With that, she ventured out into an act completely out of character for her and taking his face in her hands, planted a very soft kiss on his dry lips. She could read it in his body language that he was shocked at her response, but he kissed her back with equal enthusiasm. It lasted only about four seconds, but when Andrea pulled away, she saw that his eyes were rather watery. She pulled his head in close to her chest and removed his hat, running her fingers through his dark brown hair. The sun had made its first appearance of the day when Andrea heard the slow and steady breathing from Jim's deep exhales since he had fallen asleep in her arms. This was how Dale found them as he walked in with his hair sticking up on one side of his head as if he had been attacked by a pillow of violent nature. Andrea pressed a finger to her lips and set Jim's head gently down on the table after Dale had placed a few dish towels underneath it.

They stole out of the room and migrated over to the dining area where Dale started digging into dry granola and canned peaches. He had an all-knowing look on his slightly wrinkled features as he watched Andrea poke at her food, lost in deep thought. She finally set her spoon down and clasping her hands together in front of her, leaned forward to confront him.

"What are you staring at?"

Dale shrugged. "I'm not staring, just thinking. I won't lie and say that I didn't see this coming, but I'm just relieved that nothing happened with Merle."

Andrea rested her cheek in her hand, shaking her head at Dale. "You're too nosy for your own good and you got me and Jim hooked on prying into people's business, so you'd better cut it out. There's nothing to discuss about what goes on between me and Jim or anyone else and I'd appreciate it if you backed off."

With a raise of his bushy eyebrows, Dale said with a bit of surprise, "I'm not _prying_, I'm just noticing. If someone asks, I tell the truth but I don't go around asking questions. That was a hurtful thing to say."

"Sorry, just tired," said Andrea lamely, still rather irritated. She heard heavy footfalls coming down the stairs and retreated into the powder room to avoid an early run in with Merle. When she cracked the door open, she saw Dale give her the thumbs up and she hurried back up the stairs, shutting her door quietly and crawling back into bed, no longer seeing a look of hurt on Jim's face as she dreamt.

Shane had gone out scouting with Glenn, leaving the others to occupy themselves with whatever they could find to do. Andrea, Amy, and the Dixons were assisting Dale with unloading the rest of their supplies from the Winnebago and were joined shortly after beginning by Jim who appeared looking very well rested. He met Andrea's eye and she gave him an encouraging smile as she and Amy removed the miscellaneous objects from Dale's locked cabinet. When they were very near to being done Shane and Glenn returned with no news of any walkers in the immediate area which brightened everyone's mood except perhaps Merle's, who was already in a sulky mood to begin with but was now even more so at the news of nothing to take his anger out on at his disposal. He and Daryl were still walking around with pistols on their person just as Jim had taken to carrying his bat everywhere. As Merle sifted through random junk piled up by the tree line Andrea went digging under Dale's bed for anything she might have missed. Then she heard Merle shout and she gave a startled cry as the sound of bullets hitting the RV ripped through the silent calm that had been present only moments before. Digging in her belt for her Ladysmith, she flew out the doorway and saw Merle grappling one-handed with a walker. Beside him and out of reach was his Hi-Power. Andrea took aim at the walker, but before she could so much as exhale, Jim swooped down out of nowhere and with a well-placed hit, sent the walker soaring backward a good five feet. He swung away at it repeatedly as Merle checked himself for bites and grasped his pistol. Shoving Jim out of the way, he let off three rounds into the walker's head even after its face was no longer recognizable.

"Merle, you're wasting ammo, cut it out!" yelled Shane, rushing forward. Merle, however, told Shane to go do something that made Andrea's jaw drop open and then spat on the walker with another insult.

"What happened?" Andrea asked Amy.

"It came out of nowhere while Merle was looking in the bins and as it went to grab him, he pulled his pistol on it, but it knocked the gun away and he hit the RV instead. But it didn't get him and that's—that's a miracle."

Seeing as how it was Merle, Andrea couldn't agree with that sentiment, but she sent her sister off to collect the rest of the supplies as Merle tramped over to her with a very filthy look indeed.

"The hell're _you_ lookin' at?" he demanded, almost foaming at the mouth in anger.

"What? I didn't say anything and I'm not giving you a look. Why do you always assume I want to argue with you? I was _going_ to ask if you were hurt, but never mind if you're going to be an asshole about it." She triumphed at the apologetic look that flickered across Merle's face, but before she could say another word a very pungent smell hit her nostrils and she grimaced.

"What's wrong?" asked Merle.

"You smell that?" she asked, examining the bullet holes in the RV. "Oil. You must have hit a gas pipe or something when you shot off those rounds."

Amy stepped down out of the RV, her arms laden with the last of the supplies and made her way over to her the drop-off pile just a few paces away. Jim dragging the walker body towards the smoldering fire Shane and Glenn had started when suddenly Shane swore and thundered, "Everyone get down!"

Jim threw his arms around Amy as if he was performing a bone-crushing embrace and the two went down hard onto the gravel. Merle spun towards Andrea and wrapped an arm around her waist as he bowled into her and threw himself over her to act as a shield. Andrea landed painfully on her back and tailbone, but couldn't move since Merle was pressed in so tightly against her that she could feel his heart thumping madly from within his chest against her own. She felt the heat wave pass over them as the RV exploded and burst into sky high flames. As the air became thick with smoke and ash, Merle very slowly rolled off of her, wincing. He beat at the flames licking his pant leg with his one hand and Andrea quickly kicked dirt onto it, patting out the rest of the smoke with her hands.

"Andrea, you alright?" called Jim through the heat.

"I'm fine!" Andrea responded, coughing and straining her eyes against the pollution. Merle spat on the ground, wrinkling his nose and cursing. He fixed Andrea with a strange look and then nodded to her.

She saw Dale standing on the porch with his rifle held loosely in his hand, watching the remains of his beloved Winnebago, the last memory he had of the time he spent with his deceased wife, scatter into the wind.


	11. Chapter 11: False Sense of Security

Andrea placed a comforting hand on Dale's shoulder as she came to stand beside him. There were tears cascading down his face, leaving clear trails in the ash that coated his skin. Amy and Jim joined them and all three of them reached out towards the older man whose faithful Winnebago had been something of a savior and a sanctuary for them all, sheltering them, transporting them, and standing in as the community bathroom. In a way, they each felt as if they had lost a human being. Jim was the first to leave Dale's side as he began to pull the supplies back from the blazing bonfire. Daryl, Shane, and Glenn stepped in to help as well, but Merle hadn't moved from where Andrea had left him. He was holding his Hi-Power in his palm, wrapping his head around the fact that it had been his misfire that brought about the RV's destruction.

Dale eventually sat down right where he had been standing and folded his arms over his knees, wringing his hat in his hands. Amy went inside to fix him up some of his own Moonshine as a pick-me up. Andrea, meanwhile, put an arm around Dale's shoulders and rubbed a hand up and down his shoulder. He hardly seemed to notice her touch or indeed her presence as they sat watching Jim and the others started moving the supplies inside. On Jim's third trip back out of the house he patted Andrea's arm and this was what jerked Dale from his daze.

"You take care of him," he told her meaningfully. "Keep hold of him until your last moment because once he's gone…that's it."

"We don't need to talk about it," said Andrea in a subdued fashion.

"Has he cried yet?" asked Dale suddenly.

Andrea found the question very strange, but remembered the tears threatening to fall from Jim's eyes after she had kissed him. At first she thought it was from happiness, but it didn't quite fit despite the situation. "He almost did, why?"

"I'm surprised that you haven't seen it. He feels guilty for hosting these feelings for you after what happened to his wife and kids."

"He was married before?" asked Andrea in surprise.

"It's one of the few things he told me when I found him right before you and your sister. He was sort of delusional and once I got him to talk a little bit of sense, he said, 'My wife, my sons…eaten…my name is Jim'. That's all I got out of him for a while, but once or twice I've caught him crying, but not really crying, if that makes sense. The tears fall, but he has no emotion in his face; he just sits there looking like water naturally pours out of his eyes. It's strange."

Andrea noticed that her mouth was hanging open slightly and she closed it as she gave Dale a final pat. Daryl and Shane walked past carrying the last of the storage bins and Jim stood with his outer wrist resting on his side as the other dabbed at his sweaty and ash-covered face. He met Andrea's gaze and she jerked her head inconspicuously to the right to signify that she wanted to speak to him alone. She slipped away and was joined shortly by him after he had gotten a drink of water. He had a perplexed look on his face which was still absolutely filthy, but also beautiful. Andrea could now see what made him the man she had fallen in love with; his sorrow and grief over the family he had lost was what shaped him into this introverted sleeping giant with a pure heart. The way his face changed to show concern made her own heart melt a little as she coiled her arm in his and instructed him to walk with her. She noticed that he had brought his bat along as they wandered farther and farther from the houses.

"What's up?" he asked, using the corner of his garage suit collar to wipe some of the ash from his mouth.

"Did you not trust me?" she inquired, taking a step and a half for every one of his.

"With what?"

"You didn't tell me why you were so reserved all the time, why you made no contact with anyone, why you tried to pretend that you didn't feel something for me, because of your family."

Jim came to a jerking halt, causing Andrea to nearly lose her balance as her legs continued walking but the rest of her stopped along with him. He slipped his arm out of hers and took hold of both of her arms in his hands. His grip was firm, not in anger, but desperation as if he needed her to understand his motive behind his actions. After a moment his fingers loosened and he ran them across her skin, feeling the warmth and sympathy she wanted him to feel. His eyes drank in the sight of her and she stood perfectly still, listening to his even breathing and inhaling the smell of the storm coming in from the east. As his irises locked on hers, he lifted his forefinger and traced her lips with the tip of it.

"It's not that I didn't trust you; I just didn't know how t'tell you. I wasn't ready. Only reason Dale found out was 'cuz I was blabberin' like a damn fool when he picked me up, otherwise I wouldn't have said nothin'. My family was taken from me and now everything I have I hold on to almost to the point of cutting off circulation. My bat, my suit, my hat, that's all I had for the longest time…and now…" He cupped the back of her head just below her ear and stroked her hair. "I know y'wish I could express m'self more clearly, but truth is, I never quite learned how."

"I don't need to hear words, Jim, I just need to see and feel and you display both of those clearly enough. I just don't want you to feel guilt about your family and me. I can't replace them, but I can try and make life a bit more bearable for you. We both know how cliché it is for someone to finally admit the three words everyone wants to hear but no one wants to say."

"Love you?" asked Jim.

"That was two words, you ass."

"But I do."

With that Jim leaned over and pressed his lips strongly against hers, staying in this motionless position for almost ten seconds before he parted the contact and pushing back his hat, touched his forehead to hers so that she could feel the activity in his brain. He pulled her in close so that every pulse of his heart beat opposite hers. She smiled into his garage suit at the thought of what her dad would say if he could see his little tomboy now…then she thought of Merle and scowled.

Suddenly Jim tensed in her arms and whispered to her, "Don't move. I'm gonna get the gun out of your belt 'cuz there's walkers comin' right at us from 'bout thirty feet away. Four've 'em. How many shots you got?"

"Fully loaded clip and sixteen more bullets in my bag at the house," said Andrea, tensing. "We should just make a run for it."

"We will, but there's one walker closer'n the others and I gotta take it out first. Be ready…" He whirled her around behind his back, shoving the Ladysmith into her hands as he raised his bat and broke out hell on the walker. Taking Andrea's hand, he started to sprint back towards the house with the command, "Do _not_ look behind you, whatever y'do!"

So naturally, she had to look back…

_Shit!_ Where the hell did all these walkers come from and why did they always show up just when things were coming together for her? Would they follow them back to the houses and if so, was their manpower enough to keep them at bay?

"Walkers!" roared Jim as they broke out of the trees and saw Lori hanging up laundry. "Walkers, everyone inside!"

Daryl scooped up Carl and ran with him towards the middle house with Sophia in tow. Survivors ran for cover, slamming doors and shouting orders. Jim and Andrea made for their house where Merle was arming himself with a pump action shotgun while Dale checked his rifle for bullets. Seeing Jim and Andrea holding hands, Merle opened his mouth to say something most likely repulsive and offensive, but instead he snapped his trap shut again and stepped aside to let them in. Andrea's last glimpse of the outside was that of Shane running past the still smoking RV skeleton before Dale hammered the door shut and double bolted it.

"Basement or second floor?" asked Merle, patting the intimidating blade on his belt as he tucked the shotgun under his armpit.

"Second floor," said Jim. "We'll have a better vantage point and have a way out if they get in. Basement's a death trap." The four of them pounded up the stairs to the spare fourth room where their emergency supplies were stocked up. It was then that Andrea noted Amy's absence.

"Where's Amy?" she asked.

"Saw her by the far left house," said Merle, pulling back the blinds slightly to watch for the walkers coming out of the woods. "Dunno if she's in there, though."

"She's in there," said Jim confidently.

"It's no just a matter of staying quiet until the walkers pass," said Dale quietly, mimicking Merle to look out the window, "and I _am_ talking to you, Merle Dixon. You'd better shut up this time or we're going to lose more than just a vehicle."

"Weren't my fault the walker jumped me, old man," Merle snarled.

"That's not what I mean. I mean that you need to keep your yapper zipped up tight or you're going to get us all killed because we know how you like to make noise."

"Keep that shit up and I won't be the one makin' noise."

"Try it," Jim threatened, standing in front of Dale. "You make a sound and those walkers are gonna be on us in a second and who y'think's gonna watch your pathetic ass? Keep it together, pal, or somebody's gonna get hurt and it ain't gonna be Dale."

Merle had no words for Jim, but looked at Andrea behind him with an obvious raise of his eyebrows. "_This_ is whatcha went for?"

Jim's fist flew out and made contact with Merle's jaw, knocking him to the floor with the power packed into it. Merle blinked several times and then his blue eyes lit on fire as he leapt to his feet, going for his knife. Jim elbowed him hard in his wounded shoulder and Merle cried out, dropping onto his knees. Jim swiped Merle's weapons away as Dale covered him with the rifle.

"You tryin' to get y'self killed, Dixon? 'Cuz it's workin'. Make another crack at her, or threaten Dale one more time and you're gonna wish that I hadn't missed when I shotcha. Y'understand? I wanna hear y'say the words, Dixon."

"I'd say fuck you, but I already told y'once and it'll come back t'hauntcha," seethed Merle. "Gimme my weapons back and I'll make my way over to the other house. I don't gotta sit here'n put up with this shit."

"You won't make it," said Dale with another look out the window. "They're everywhere."

Andrea rushed to the window and felt her mouth extend towards the floor. Jim and Merle clustered around her so that the four of them were crammed together against the frame. She reached out on either side of her, found Jim's hand and Merle's and gave them each a squeeze as her heart contracted in fear. She had felt safe that morning, felt safe even after the Winnebago exploded, but just liked Jim had said, "We ain't any safer. False sense of security, that's what it is."

He wasn't bullshitting.


	12. Chapter 12: A Death Trap

The waiting game was not long played.

They all realized that they needed to communicate with Shane somehow and the only way they would accomplish this would be to send out someone to climb the neighboring roof and holler down through the weak spot Carol had identified the day before. If not for the band of mindless wandering corpses littering the lawn, this would have been easy but also unnecessary in the first place. It became apparent that the walkers had no interest in going anywhere anytime soon especially with the scent of humans so rich and strong on the air. They would search for a meal until it came to them which meant that everyone was trapped within the three houses.

Andrea knew as well as anyone that they could not hold out indefinitely, but they wouldn't have to because they were already running low of food, having not had a chance to go scavenging, and their water supply was dwindling as well. Sooner or later someone would crack and want to go outside for air or be driven insane by the demonic melody of the dead's moans just outside their door.

They needed an escape plan, or something of that sort to either clear out the dead or try to outlast them, but the only way they would accomplish this was if they got word to Shane. Dale was admittedly too old for such a strenuous task as climbing rooftops and outrunning walkers, and so he voted himself out to volunteer. Andrea knew that though she was an experienced climber, she would stand little chance against the walkers if they started to close in due to her lack of fighting technique. This left Jim and Merle. While Jim definitely had an advantage with being a fast runner, but Merle knew how to handle weapons better. It was quite obvious that Jim had no desire to go, and so Merle, seeing his chance, offered himself up for the task.

He cut the sling off with his knife, letting his arm drop with a flash of a grimace. As he chose his weapons, Dale pried the window open and they all got a strong whiff of decay. The sounds of the dead were louder now, but they didn't seem to bother Merle in the least. He fixed his set of brass knuckles to his hand and tucked a second knife into his belt along with a second pistol. Finally he took an axe in his bad hand and straightened up.

"Badass," he said with a sort of child's glee.

"No, just insane," said Andrea peevishly. "You be careful."

"What's it t'you if I am or ain't? S'not like y'give a fuck 'bout what happens t'me or nothin'."

"That's where you're wrong, Merle. I don't have to want you to care about what happens to you. You can't have me the way that you want, but you can accept my feelings for your safety and friendship. Good enough?"

Merle stared her down but when she refused to falter or break eye contact, he gave her a brief nod. "Good 'nough." He stuck one leg out the window and then the other, creeping down the sloping rooftop on all fours with the axe in one hand and his Hi-Power in the other. At the edge of the rooftop he began to lower himself down, but Andrea could see he was putting pressure on his bad arm and she winced for him. With half of his body visible, he glanced down under his arm and then they heard him cry, "Argh, _sh—_it!" before he fell and was lost from sight. They couldn't see the battle raging on below, but they heard the sounds of flesh opening up or bones caving in along with war cries from Merle.

"He's gonna make it, don't worry," said Jim to Andrea as she partially covered her face with one hand, but was unable to resist the temptation and peered through her fingers. She saw the top of Merle's head as he advanced slowly towards the middle house, but despite Jim's false optimism, she knew Merle would never get there.

"We need to distract them," she told the other two. "There's too many and we need to do something now."

Jim stuffed their supplies into two duffel bags and tore out the door, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where he chose a knife and of course his bat for battle. Dale took a pistol along with his rifle and Andrea picked up a crowbar. Together they stood just behind the main door, grasping hands with heads bowed. Andrea said a quick and silent prayer in her head and then Dale threw the door open. Jim went out first, sprinting for Merle and creating as much ruckus as he could to bring the walkers away from the older Dixon. His tactic appeared to be working as he retreated a few steps. Andrea didn't have to go far before a walker thrust out its arms for her and she swung her crowbar at it.

"Run for it, Merle!" Dale hollered as he came to Andrea's rescue.

Andrea saw Merle make it to the porch and catch hold of the gutter-rail which he used to pull himself up. She called to Jim that Merle was in the clear and then dashed backwards towards their house. Jim met her on the steps and they were halfway through the door when they realized that Dale was not with them but still fighting with a lot more energy than either of them thought he was capable of possessing.

"Dale Horvath, you get your old ass over here, are you fucking insane?" Andrea thundered.

At that moment Dale tripped backwards over a walker he had already taken out and Andrea's heart froze in place.

"Shit!" Jim cursed, hopping the railing to get to Dale in time. He swung upwards with his bat in a golfer's stroke and Andrea saw one walker's nose go soaring through the air. Jim hooked his arm around Dale's and hauled him towards the house where he dumped him callously on the porch, kicking at him to crawl inside as he guarded their escape. When Andrea and Dale had cleared the doorway, Jim dodged inside and double bolted the door.

"You dumb bastard, y'almost got both've us killed! Get up off the floor and help me seal the door-,"

"Dale," said Andrea suddenly, noticing how crippled he looked. "What's wrong with you?"

Dale's hat had fallen off and he looked smaller, more human without it. He brought one hand away from his hip which he had been nursing by applying pressure and Andrea saw scarlet staining his fingertips. She leaned in closer and lifted his over-shirt to reveal a rounded bite mark.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he said heavily before he keeled over and hit the floor hard. Andrea grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard.

"You stay with us, Dale; we're going to get you some help." She held tight to him, calming him as best she could as the door rattled in its frame and the sounds of death filled her ears.

Andrea cradled Dale's head in her arms as he took shallow breaths. It was nearly two hours later Jim was doing his best to bar the kitchen doorway, but the walkers would overwhelm them if they didn't move. However, they were out of options when it came to escaping. The kitchen had one very small window that was hardly big enough for any of them to squeeze through, let alone a child. Their only choice was to go down into the basement, the deathtrap Jim had spoken of. Jim threw Andrea a hopeless look and together they gathered the rest of their equipment before they each took hold of Dale and carried him awkwardly down the steps where they set him down on the hard concrete floor. Andrea hovered over him, listening to his heart begin to fade out.

"Dale…" she said gently, "it's Andrea. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." She loosened her grip on his fingers to wait and feel for the tiniest bit of pressure from him. He grasped her hand with an excruciatingly tight clench of his bloody fingers. Jim took a knee beside them and lifted Dale's head so that the dying man could see them properly. Dale's eyes, so similar to Jim's in color before, were now misty, almost caramel-colored as the veil of death began to claim them. He searched for someone who was not there, most likely his wife as his eyes darted around and his mouth formed unspoken words.

"You can let go, Dale," Jim encouraged. "It's gonna be alright. We'll make sure y'get home."

Half of Dale's face turned up in a smile but the other half refused to work as it drooped with age and poison from the bite he had sustained. Andrea felt him go rigid as he stopped breathing and his eyes closed even though the hold he had on her fingers was still incredibly strong…and then his eyelids pulled back to reveal misty pupils infected with gray and deceased yellow in the areas that should have been white. His fingers were squeezing Andrea's almost to the point of making her want to scream for him to release, but even if she did, he wouldn't hear her, for he had gone right there in hers and Jim's arms without them even knowing or suspecting. One second he had been with them and the next something else had come back in his place. A monster.

Andrea tried to pry her arm free but Dale was pulling her towards him, mouth beginning to open to reveal his blood-stained teeth. The closest weapon to Jim was the Ladysmith which he quickly scooped up, though once it was in hand, he hesitated. If he fired, the walkers would hear and come for them, but if he didn't, the walker that had replaced Dale would claim Andrea. He dug the nozzle into the thick white hair on the side of the head and turning away, fired. At the same time Andrea felt the hand release her and she scrambled backwards as blood began to seep out of Dale Horvath's temple.

"Jim, they're coming down," she said in a horrified whisper as walkers appeared at the top of the stairs and then raising her voice, screamed for someone, anyone anywhere to hear, to come to their aid.

Jim pulled the door shut, locked it, and piled up whatever he could in front of it, backing up as far as the basement space allowed to sit down beside Andrea in the pool of blood spreading out across the floor. Andrea felt emotion welling up in her throat and forced herself to not even turn her head in the position of Dale's body.

"Do you think anyone heard us?" asked Andrea, scrabbling for Jim's hand in the darkness to grasp it.

"No," said Jim heavily, "and that door isn't gonna hold."

Andrea turned towards him, though she couldn't see his face. He turned on their flashlight and held it so that they could meet eyes. He held up his pistol and released the magazine. They both saw the lone bullet sitting at the bottom of the clip. Jim snapped the clip back in and raised the pistol ever so slightly. Andrea understood; they had to decide which of them would have to suffer the agonizing pain of being eaten alive so that the other could take the easy way out. Jim would never let her take the punishment.

"If there was any way out, I would have you take it, but there ain't. Andrea…" His hand trembled within hers almost to the point of making her entire body shake. "What do I do? You're not meant for this. I did it to my family—and now you. This ain't happenin'—I won't let—I can't-not again…"

"I know," said Andrea, tasting her salt tears on her lips, "but no one's coming. I don't blame you for this, Jim. I'm still here for you and I-I'll see you in a few minutes, alright?"

Jim choked hard and nodded, kissing her forehead fiercely as he held her tight to him, beginning to rock ever so slightly in place. She clutched at him with both hands, wanting this to be her final memory…his warmth…

"God forgive me," he whispered.

Andrea felt her own gun touching her head, the cold, the evilness of it. The irony; the very weapon she used to protect herself by putting down walkers would now be used to put herself down before the walkers could get to her. Merle would have called it "some fucked up shit".

She hugged Jim to her, clasping her eyes shut tightly. 


	13. Chapter 13: Setting of a Red Sun

Andrea heard the gunshot and was aware more than ever of the faint smell of oil on Jim's skin as she pressed her nose against his chest. Somehow his hold on her became stronger with each passing second—but why did the seconds exist if she had heard the gunshot? She felt herself rising with arms still around her and opened her eyes. Jim was standing up, wielding his bat to fend off their attackers while also forming a protective shield around her. Behind the six walkers that had broken through the rickety wooden door, Andrea saw a seventh walker clatter down the steps and then two figures came crashing down after them with pistols firing wildly. A third man brought up the rear and he had _a crossbow_. Jim hid Andrea behind him to tackle an oncoming walker and Andrea landed back in the spreading blood, terrified as she felt its clammy coldness spread over her. She was weaponless and in shock, she knew, and so she could do nothing as a walker charged at her with half of its mouth missing. Rolling to the side, she scrambled to her feet, groping about for anything she could use as a weapon. Upon finding nothing, she seized an overhead beam, pulled herself up and kicked out at the walker which only earned her a temporary victory. Jim was too far to help her and now she was out of options.

Merle appeared before her, beating his bloody fist into the other side of the walker's jaw and silencing it with a shot from his second pistol. He rounded on Andrea and took her face in his hands, jolting her urgently. "Are y'with me?" he cried, though his voice was faint as if it was coming through a badly tuned radio. She heard but could not respond; her bodily functions seemed to have shut off somehow. She felt something hard and rough strike her across one cheek and then Merle's voice blasted into her eardrums. "Damn it, woman, pull your fuckin' head outta the clouds! Are y'with me?"

"Yes," she gasped, leaning into him for support.

"Then run."

Merle took her hand, hauling her to the stairs where Daryl and Shane already were scurrying back up with Jim between them. They darted left into the sitting room and then bounded up the stairs to the second floor, making a break for the spare room once again since the front door was blocked off by walkers. Shane and Daryl threw themselves against the door and waved frantically at Merle.

"Go on; get 'em outta here!" Daryl shouted, straining as the first walker hit the door.

"C'mon, you're first," said Merle as he tugged at Jim's arm and pointed to the window. "We've got people coverin' ya so that you can run for the second house, but y'gotta book it and when I say that, I mean run your squirrely ass for all it's worth, y'unnerstand?" Jim cast a sideways look at Andrea, but Merle ushered him on towards the window. "I'll take care've her, juss get movin'."

"Where's Dale?" asked Shane as he put his full weight into holding the door.

"He's gone," said Jim, climbing out with his bat still in hand. He started down the roof on his rear end, sliding a few inches at a time. When he had reached the brim Merle helped Andrea through and slid out after her. With her hand still grasped tightly in his, he led her to the edge of the roof. She supposed this would be a bad time to tell him that she had a slight fear of heights and so she remained silent as she lowered herself beside Jim and the two waited for Merle's signal.

Merle raised an arm as an indication of waiting for the all clear and a second later he nodded. "Run like hell, y'all."

Simultaneously Jim and Andrea let go and fell through space for three seconds before they each hit the grass hard. Jim recovered first, leaping to his feet with his bat at the ready, but Andrea took a moment to gather her wits for there was an odd ringing in her ears after she had landed on her tailbone. She felt the vibration in the ground as something landed beside her and the next moment Merle had her arm in a vice-like grip, scowling deeply at her.

"The hell's wrong with you? What part've 'run like hell' d'you not get? C'mon!" He dragged her towards the second house with Jim covering their escape while they heard firing from ahead. Andrea tried twice to check to see that he was following but Merle nearly yanked her arm out of its socket both times. When at last the door rose before them Merle shoved her hard through it where she fell into Amy's waiting arms who then threw them around her sister, sobbing. Andrea felt the tears fall from her eyes as she panted for breath and waited for the others to come. Jim stumbled up the steps and Lori helped to balance him. In seconds Shane bolted through the door and Merle leaned out into the open to scream at his little brother, "Boy, 'f'you ain't in here by the time I count t'one, you're gonna be in a world've hurt!"

The count of one came and went and then Merle rushed back out against all protest. Jim scooped up his bat from where he had dropped it on the floor and ran after the Dixons. Andrea crawled to the doorway to watch against her better judgment. Daryl had fallen and cut his leg open on the gravel which was a flare signal to the walkers to bear down on him. Merle and Jim each had a hold of his arms and were making their way backwards with him in tow. Shane and Morales ran out to cover them with firepower. Andrea saw the pistol in Carol's hands and swiped it from her, taking aim at the walkers closing in on Jim's left. She let off three rounds, all of them accurate and stepped aside as the trio squeezed through the door followed up by Shane and Morales. With a loud crash Shane slammed the door shut, bolted it, and began hammering planks into place to reinforce it.

Andrea sank down onto the floor where Amy wrapped her arms comfortingly around her once again, nestling her head in against the crook of Andrea's neck. Jim came to his knees beside them, resting one hand on Amy's head and touching the other to Andrea's cheek where she felt the blood from when Merle had slapped her. He had nothing to say about it, but he planted a soft kiss against her forehead. Two feet away Merle was helping to wrap Daryl's leg, scolding him for his stupidity in a fashion that only made sense to a Dixon. When he had finished he slapped Daryl upside the head and sat back on his knees, wiping his hands on his pants. Andrea extended her hand to him and without a moment's pause he took it, face expressionless. Just for a second, the briefest of instants, he reminded her of Dale who would have gone back for them regardless of the cost to his life. Merle tore his eyes from Andrea and looked to Jim, holding the gaze for the longest five seconds any of them had ever experienced and then to the surprise of all, he nodded.

% % %

No one could say why, not that it mattered, but it gave them hope when Jim and Merle were to be found the next day on the side of the two-story digging a grave for Dale. The last of the walkers had left that afternoon; Shane, Merle, Glenn, and a few others had fired from cracks in the windows and taken out as many walkers as they dared, beaten the hell out of some others with the help of Jim, and waited for the last of them to leave the territory before hunting them down. While Shane had gone out searching for more supplies with Morales, Jim and Merle fashioned Dale's final resting place without words to spare. Daryl helped Andrea and Amy clean Dale's head and rib wound. Andrea slipped Dale's watch off when no one was looking and saw that the time had stopped at 4:21. Whether or not this time meant anything she didn't know, but since the Winnebago was now gone along with its owner, she wanted something to have on her person to remind her of the last father figure she'd ever have, the one who had selflessly picked up her and Amy on a side-road and given them shelter, the one who had also picked up Jim, the one who had had to nose into everyone's business and with a slight chuckle Andrea knew that this was why she had loved him.

The five of them set Dale's body down in the soft, damp earth and though no one knew what to say in closing, they all felt something within them that they supposed would be good enough for Dale who could read what they were saying without ever hearing them utter a word. Andrea helped to fill the grave this time and when the last shovelful of dirt had been padded in, Amy placed a personalized gravestone above the spot where Dale's head lay. She broke down here and Daryl helped her to her feet, holding her steady while shooting Merle the middle finger for his brother had rolled his eyes.

Merle replaced the sling on his arm since he had overworked it and it had started to bleed again the day before. He put two fingers to his temple and gave the strangest, smallest, most meaningful salute Andrea had ever seen before he walked away with a hand in his pocket.

Andrea and Jim sat down on the bottom steps of the porch, gazing on at the remains of the RV that still hadn't been cleaned up. Andrea had her Ladysmith in her hands, caressing the nozzle as if she were caught in some sort of stupor.

"Would you have done it?" she asked quietly. "If they hadn't come for us when they did, would you have fired?"

Jim's fingers tightened briefly around her arm and he exhaled sharply. "Yes," he said in a firm, unwavering tone. "I've seen the pain of someone bein' eaten alive—my wife…my sons…I watched the whole thing and it's the worst, most terrifyin' thing y'could ever imagine. No one—_no one_ deserves that sorta death, but it seems t'come t'those who deserve it least. I wasn't gonna let it happen again 'cuz've my screw ups. I wouldda shot you, Andrea, y'can be damn sure I wouldda if help hadn't come that very second. I'dda done it for you, not for me."

"Do you think Dale let himself get bitten?" she inquired, this time with more doubt. She had thought about this for a long time. Dale didn't have to rush in and help her fight against the walkers; she had been doing perfectly fine on her own. Perhaps he had sought to get bitten and have a ready-made excuse to end his life.

"No, I don't believe that bullshit," said Jim with a gulp. "If Dale wanted t'kill himself, he wouldda clamped his teeth down on his rifle; he knew how. He was holdin' on to that Winnebago, but even more'n that, he was holdin' on t'you and Amy. The Winnebago was worth livin' for, but you girls were worth dyin' for and that's what he did. Complicated old bastard, wasn't he?"

Andrea smiled with her cheek resting on Jim's arm. "Yeah, I think we all can agree on that." She glanced down at the watch on her wrist. 4:21. Two and one made three; three plus four was seven.

What a lucky number.

"I think we'll stay here for a while at least, see how long our supplies hold out and if we have to leave…well, we'll need another car," said Andrea with a sniff as she saw a bit more of the RV scatter into the winds and drift away.

"It was just a vehicle," said Jim mildly. "Can't take that with you, just the memory of it. Old, cramped, musty, bland-,"

"Beautiful," said Andrea, remembering the first and only shower she had taken in it, the days she had spent sitting on the floor and in the seats awaiting tomorrow, the locked cupboard with Dale's alcohol, the front seat where an old man in a sailor's cap would sit and drive. Memories like these would stay with her, memories of absolute beauty.

"Yeah, pretty beautiful," Jim agreed with a tender gaze as he watched her.

Birds flew overhead in search of safer grounds to nest. The woods were silent, wary of the walkers roaming about for their next meal. The sun was glowing red, partially from dying out pollution and also to signify the blood spilt every day to the disease that had claimed the world. And here in the middle of the Georgian heat there was a small group of survivors, living day to day, hour to hour, moment by moment. None of them knew which second would be their last, when life would end, or where, or why, but they held on to what they had as each second passed and their hearts were still beating one pulse at a time. Each and every speck of time was precious, not to be wasted, only spent willingly.

Andrea felt Jim's heart beat contentedly and saw a raindrop fall from the sky, landing directly on the tip of her shoe. The storm that had threatened to come in yesterday was preceded by the storm of walkers. That storm had passed; now another was here and they would survive it just as they had all the previous ones because life went on at its own pace and for now they could keep up with it.

**I hope that I've done alright with my first story from a woman's perspective. I enjoyed writing this despite the fact that it took me much longer than my other Walking Dead stories. I would appreciate any and all feedback you may have and in closing, I thank you for reading, hope that you found it entertaining, and bid you good day.**


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